


Something Wild Calls You Home

by orphan_account



Series: Hearts as Loud as Lions [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, characters are 18+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8566765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The wormhole was destroyed, their Lions were broken, and it's a chance meeting in the middle of a storm that brings the weakened arms of Voltron back together.





	1. Chapter 1

_I’m never going to see them again_.

Pidge clenches her fists, her vision blurring. Green lies near her, its eyes just barely lit, the sparking wires long since shorted out. The tumble through the destroyed wormhole had sent them crash-landing on a planet in the middle of nowhere. Pidge’s comms are fried, Green’s metal plating is warped, and the Lion’s power is so low it can’t even get up. It needs sunlight to recharge, but it’s been cloudy and snowing off and on for the past three days. Pidge is shaking and her hands are numb and the stupid firewood she collected is wet and refuses to burn.

_First Dad and Matt, and now Shiro, Hunk, Lance, and Keith._

Two families torn from her in as many years.

* * *

 

_They’re dead. They’re all dead._

Keith stomps through the woods, forcing his body to keep moving. It’s snowing again, and his campfire never did anything but light up the area a little bit. And while Red’s cockpit blocked the wind, the chill of the metal seeped into his bones and he got so cold it _hurt_. He clamps his hands under his armpits, his toes long since gone numb, and marched in a wide circle around Red. There’s a pain in his chest that refuses to go away, no matter how fast he walks or how close he gets to the fire. And he knows exactly what caused it: it’s from hearing his team cry out all at once, and then go silent.

It’s from screaming their names into his comms before his voice goes so hoarse it still hurts to _breathe._

It’s from knowing that they’re gone, and that he’s going to freeze to death all by himself.

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous.”

Pidge gets up and grabs her bayard. She grits her teeth and forces back the tears that have been threatening to fall for three days. She’s not going to mourn for her lost family. Not yet.

The strength of the arms of Voltron lies in their stubbornness. And Pidge is holding on to a tiny, persistent grain of hope. If _she_ made it out of the wormhole, then _maybe_ the rest of the Paladins did, too. All she has to do is get Green repaired and then get outta there.

And she’s not going to do that just sitting around, staring at a dead campfire.

She’s exhausted her repair kit, but Green is still hardly functioning. And she’s had a headache all day and she just can’t _think_. So she does the only productive thing she can think of, which is try to rebuild the campfire. She stomps through the woods, slipping on the path and squinting through the wind. She’s taken this path before, but she’s only ever gone about a mile. But the forest thickens ahead, and the promise of drier firewood lures her on.

* * *

 

_Maybe I should stop._

The thought sends a pang of fear through Keith, and he marches faster. No way. No way is he going to stop moving. No way is he going to just sit and let the cold seep into his bones and kill him. He’s a fighter, he’s a Paladin, and he’s not going to give up. Ever.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

A gust of wind hits him square in the face and he lets out a frustrated groan. He switches directions, scrunching further into his jacket. He trips on a log, stubbing his toe something awful, and he falls face-first into a puddle before he can catch himself. The icy water soaks through his jacket and burns his hands and makes his chest hurt even worse. Keith pushes himself to his knees, violent shivers wracking his body. He tries to get up, but his head spins and he collapses.

_Maybe this is it._

The trees are spinning above him and his teeth are chattering and the cold hurts _so bad—_

_No_.

He’s _not_ going to die like this.

Keith growls and pushes himself to his hands and knees.

* * *

 

There’s something huge in the distance.

Pidge has been walking for who knows how long, and she’s swaying on her feet. All the firewood she’s found is soaked, and she’s too far away from Green to even bother with carrying anything back. She wants a cave, she wants dry firewood and she wants to tear open her freeze-dried food packet and eat it in the warm safety of a decent shelter.

But all she sees are trees.

Trees, and a large, dark shape ahead of her.

She dearly hopes it’s a mountain, or a hill or something of that sort, because where the ground changes, there might be shelter.

She slips and crashes into some underbrush, branches slicing across her face before she can stop her fall. She hears a crack and her vision suddenly has a dark line across it. Pidge sighs and pushes herself to her feet, not even bothering to inspect her glasses. She wipes her forehead with her muddy hand.

_What was I doing?_

_Oh yeah. That…thing…that thing out there. Might be interesting. Have to…check it out._

She stumbles and almost falls again, her eyelids drooping. But she shakes her head and forces her feet to move.

* * *

 

Keith shuffles back to Red and dumps a load of wood next to the dead fire. He plops down on the cold ground and draws his dagger. His hand shakes so bad he drops his knife, and his fingers are so numb he can’t even feel the hilt when he tries to pick it up. He has to use his dagger to shave off bits of wood to restart the fire. His bayard could cut through the wood like butter, but it refuses to activate.

Red growls; it’s lying on its side, and the growl sounds more like a sick moan. Keith glances at it, dearly hoping it doesn’t give out on him. Something has been damaged, and he doesn’t know what it is.

_Pidge would have known. She’d have known what’s wrong. And she and Hunk could have fixed it in no time._

Keith squints at his task, forcing the nostalgia _out_ of his mind. Pidge _will_ know what’s wrong, when the sun comes out and Red powers up enough to leave and go find her.

* * *

 

Pidge can’t breathe.

She’s gasping, her throat’s burning, and her legs are jelly. She rubs her eye with the back of her hand, the ground falling away from her. She’s shaking and she wants to fall down and sleep, but the tiny bit of reason in the back of her mind tells her _don’t you **dare**_.

She leans against a tree, bent over, trying to catch her breath.

And she smells smoke.

Her eyes snap up to the large object in the distance. It’s gotten bigger, but she still has no idea what it is.

But there’s smoke in that direction.

_Smoke means fire and fire doesn’t just spontaneously happen in a rain-soaked forest._

Pidge straightens and tries to walk. But her legs wobble and she grips a branch for dear life. She takes a deep breath.

And screams.

_“HEY!!”_

* * *

 

The noise makes Keith jump, and he almost cuts himself. He staggers to his feet, his entire body trembling. _Someone_ is out there, someone is crying for help, even though that’s not the word they used.

Keith sheathes his dagger before he drops it again and stumbles towards the noise.

* * *

 

A branch snaps ahead of Pidge. She gulps and tries to walk faster, but her feet are lead and the world is swimming in front of her.

And then she sees a flash of red.

She stops and gasps, part of her desperately hoping she’s right and the other part silently crying because she’s hallucinating now, that can’t be—

“Keith?”

Her voice is raw with fatigue, and it wavers on the edge of tears.

 “Pidge??”

And there he is, running towards her. But he’s shaky; he can’t keep his balance, and he slips on some half-frozen mud and flails wildly for a split second. Pidge gulps and draws up her last drop of strength, and breaks into a staggering, stumbling run.

And they crash into each other, and collapse, dropping to their knees in the dirt. Keith grabs her and pulls her against his chest, and he feels her gripping his shirt and shaking in his arms. He’s laughing, she’s laughing, and he’s weak with a relief that washes the pain out of his chest. His eyes are watering, but he tells himself that’s only because he smacked his hand pretty hard on a tree when he was running towards her.

And Pidge is half-laughing, half-crying, and trying to talk at the same time. But her words come out all in a rush and Keith can’t make sense of it. It doesn’t matter, though; she’s _safe._

They’re clinging to each other, the snow falling harder and sticking to their hair, but they’re not about to let go anytime soon. Pidge is full-on sobbing now, and now tears are streaming down Keith’s face and he holds her tighter.

“Shh, shh,” he murmurs, his voice cracked and broken. “I-It’s okay. I got you. It’s okay.” He runs a trembling hand through her hair.

“I t-thought you w-were—”

“No. I’m right here. Shh, I’m right here. I-I’m not going anywhere.” Keith pulls back a little so he can see her face, and it’s red and blotchy and streaked with mud and tears. He smiles at her, and he’s pretty sure his own face looks the same, if not messier. Pidge hiccups and tries to wipe her eyes, but her hand catches on her glasses and the broken glass falls out of the frame. She gasps, but Keith quickly reaches out and catches the glass before it hits the ground.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. He gently pulls the frames off her face and tucks all the pieces in his pocket. “It’s okay, we’ll fix them.” Pidge’s face crumples and her eyes shut and she’s crying all over again, silently shaking. Keith cups her face with his hand, and she can’t help flinching away because his hand is _ice,_ but Keith feels the fire on her skin and his chest tightens.

She has a fever, a bad one, Keith guesses, and she’s still trembling and crying.

“It’s o-k-kay, Pidge,” he murmurs through his chattering teeth, running his hands up and down her arms. She falls forward against his chest again, and he holds her tight. Her crying turns to gulps and hiccups, and she’s clinging tight to his jacket, and he’s murmuring that _you’re okay, Pidge, it’s okay, I’m_ _not going to leave you._

And he helps her stand, helps her climb on his back, and he carries her back to Red. He sets her down by the fire. The wind slams into his chest, it’s still _freezing cold,_ and he’s still shaking really bad. His breath hisses and shudders through his teeth, and he stumbles and almost falls when he tries to climb into his Lion and get the first aid kit.

But when he sits next to Pidge, she huddles up next to him, and takes the Aspirin he managed to scrounge out of the cockpit. She grips Keith’s freezing hands in hers, the paleness of his skin and the blue tint to his lips sending alarms ringing through her mind. Her eyes keep shutting, and her head is spinning and pounding, but she forces herself to stay awake. The wind bites her face and makes her squint.

_He’s going to freeze_ she thinks feebly, and she huddles closer to him. His arms tighten around her. He’s saying something, but his teeth are chattering so hard that the words aren’t coming out right.

But the fire grows, and the wind dies down. And finally, after who knows how long, she can feel Keith’s shivering lessen to intermittent shudders. She sighs and lets her eyes drift shut.

She’s stopped crying, she’s safe here, and Keith isn’t about to freeze to death. She slumps against him, sleep washes over her, and the last thought on her mind is the words Keith was trying to get out. _It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay._

Pidge is warm against his chest, and Red’s paw is sort of blocking the dying wind, and for once the fire is throwing a bit of heat. And when Keith glances up, he sees a tiny sliver of sky between the clouds. He swallows, and the tightness in his chest eases up, and his breaths don’t shudder anymore.

Finally the sun is coming out, finally his Lion will be able to power up, and finally they’re going to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

_Pidge is falling._

_Green is sluggish and moves as if it’s drowning in cement. Pidge has to throw her whole weight into the control sticks to get it to move at all. She can hear Lance shoutling in her headset. But she can’t figure out what he’s saying because Hunk, Shiro, Allura, Coran, and Keith are all yelling over the comms._

_The wormhole has turned an angry, buzzing electric pink, and lightning reaches out menacingly towards the Lions. A spark snaps off Green’s tail and the whole Lion shudders._

_And then the comms are one voice quieter._

_“Shiro?!”_

_Only a second later, Hunk’s voice disappears as well._

_Lance’s shrieking in Spanish is cut off._

_And then Allura and Coran’s frenzied instructions disappear._

_But Pidge is still falling, falling towards the nasty jagged edges of the wormhole._

_Lightning snaps the cockpit, and Green seizes up. Sparks fly up the control sticks and display panels crack and shatter. Pidge yelps, cringing, but refuses to let go of the controls. “Guys? Hey! Answer me!”_

_“Jom dowajuseyo!!”_

_Keith is the only one left. He’s screaming in Korean, and Pidge’s comms refuse to translate it. She sees a flash of red out her right window, and gasps._

_Red is practically dead, only its tail barely twitching. Pidge can’t even tell if its eyes are glowing, and she knows that means Keith can’t see out the cockpit. Red is tumbling end over end, dangerously close to the edge of the wormhole._

_“Keith!” Pidge hauls on the controls, but Green doesn’t move._

_“Shiro! Lance! Guys, where are you??” Keith yells. “What is going on?!”_

_“Keith! I’m still here! I can see you!” Pidge cries. She watches, helpless, as Red is struck by lightning, and she hears Keith howl in frustration._

_“Guys! Daedab hae!_ _Answer me!” he yells._

_He can’t hear her._

_Red is struck again, and Keith cries out in pain. “Guys, please, I can’t see! Pidge, can you hear m—”_

_The wormhole rips open like an angry jaw and swallows Red. They disappear faster than Pidge can even blink._

_“KEITH!!”_

_She freezes, staring at the void, but Keith is gone._

_All goes silent. Outside the cockpit, the wormhole should be roaring with how much electricity is sparking through it. Yet it isn’t, of course it isn’t, there’s no sound in space. The wormhole roils like a river, ready to wash over her and drown her without a sound. She falls closer, closer, but Green still doesn’t move…_

_And inside the cockpit, the silence is suffocating Pidge, pressing against her ears and chest until it **hurts**. She’s gasping, crying, screaming into her comms; she can feel her voice in her throat, but no sound reaches her ears. Her hands are shaking, and the lightning is snapping closer and closer, sparks are flying off the controls and blinding her and burning her face—_

“Pidge. Pidge, wake up.”

And suddenly she’s lying curled up on her side, and she’s cold and shaking and _what happened, where’s Green, where’s Keith, and Shiro, what—_

“It’s just a dream, Pidge. It’s okay.” Keith’s voice, calm and quiet and soothing. He runs a gentle hand through her hair.

Her eyes snap open and she sits bolt upright. Keith is sitting right next to her, his dark blue eyes warm and concerned. She blinks at him, confused because _they all disappeared, there’s no way._

“It was just a dream,” he says again, his hand on her arm.

A sliver of the nightmare falls away, and her breath hitches, and only then does she feel the hot tears on her cheeks. She buries her face against his shoulder, clinging to him and to the reality that he’s _alive, he’s alive, we didn’t die_ ….

“Hey, hey,” Keith murmurs, holding her close and rubbing her back. “Hey, I got you. You’re okay.”

She’s shaking; the terror is still burning in her mind and part of her fears the dream is yet to be over. But she can hear Keith’s heartbeat through his shirt, and the steady _thud-thud, thud-thud_ helps to slow her rapid breathing. That is the _sound_ of someone being alive and well. Keith is warm and safe and she can _hear_ him and _feel_ him. He’s real, they’re alive, and she’s not dreaming anymore. She gulps and takes a deep breath, and sits back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keith asks gently. Pidge swallows and shakes her head, and he smiles sympathetically. Something falls off her shoulder, and the breeze gets even colder. She shudders, feeling the chill seep through her clothes and set her bones aching, despite the still-burning campfire.

Keith reaches out and drapes his jacket back over her shoulders. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“A-a little—” She winces; _man,_ it hurts to talk. “A little better,” she whispers. And technically it’s true, although her head still throbs and her arms feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each.

Keith nods, but his eyes are narrow and concerned. “I found the rest of the first aid kit,” he says, unzipping a red pouch and withdrawing a skin-contact thermometer. He pushes her bangs back and holds the thermometer against her forehead. It beeps after a second, and his mouth tightens when he reads the display.

“One hundred point two,” he says. “I don’t know if that’s better than yesterday, but you were pretty sick, Pidge.”

“Oh,” she whispers, massaging her temple with the heel of her hand. She’s sitting by Red’s paw, and the snow from last night has almost entirely melted, save for a few white dustings under the trees. The sun is high, but a tree throws a bit of shade over her and Keith, and she shivers.

“Are you cold?”

“Um…yeah…”

“I’ve been setting up Red’s auxiliary solar panels,” Keith says, jerking his head towards his Lion. It lies on its side, silver panels covering half its flank. “It’s a good ten degrees warmer up there. Do you want to sit up in the sun?”

Pidge nods. “Yeah,” she murmurs. She pushes herself to her feet, but the ground lurches and the trees jump at a wild angle, like someone jerked a picture she’d been looking at. She stumbles against Keith and leans against his side, gripping his offered hand while the trees gradually drift back to normal.

Slowly, carefully, they make their way through the darkened cockpit, up a small ladder, and out onto the Lion’s side. Pidge’s legs are shaking and she almost falls twice. But Keith catches her both times, and he has a supportive arm around her shoulders by the time they make it out into the sun. Pidge squints. Her head _pounds_ and her throat hurts so bad that each breath rasps against it like sandpaper.

But up here, standing in the slight divot of Red’s shoulder, the sun is warm and the metal reflects the heat back at them. Keith helps her sit near pile of silver packages and an open toolbox. She pulls his jacket tighter around her shoulders, and tucks her hands inside the too-long sleeves. The warmth slowly envelops her like a soft blanket, and her shivering stops.

Keith sits on his knees next to her. “There’s Aspirin here in the first aid kit.” He snaps open a water bottle and hands it to her. “I want you to try and get at least half of this down. And I found some more food, too, although it’s mostly just crackers.” He nods towards the packages. “I need you to try and eat something, too, okay?”

Pidge nods and washes an Aspirin down with a sip of water.

“Sorry we didn’t have any of this earlier,” Keith says, pulling his gloves out of his pocket and putting them on. “But the storage hatch broke open when I landed, and all this stuff spilled into a ventilation shaft. Which I couldn’t get to until it stopped snowing and I could actually climb up here.”

“It’s all right,” Pidge replies. She looks around them; many of the trees all around Red have broken branches, and one or two lie completely knocked over. But while Green had dug deep furrows into the ground when it skidded to a stop, Red lies in a slight crater.

They didn’t land, Pidge realizes. The Red Lion and its Paladin had dropped from the sky and slammed into the ground.

Keith frowns out at the solar panels and runs a hand through his hair, revealing a bruise on his left temple. And only then does Pidge notice the dark purple bruises on his arms, and the bandage on his elbow. His skin is a few shades too pale, and he has dark creases under his eyes. And when he takes a breath, Pidge can hear it shake ever so slightly.

“I need to finish setting up the panels,” he says, getting to his feet. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keith,” Pidge says, her voice a weak rasp.

He pauses. “Yeah?”

Pidge swallows. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies, shrugging off the question far too quickly. He half-smiles. “Get some rest, Pidge.”

He turns away before she can press the issue. She swallows another sip of water, watching him get back to work. She intends to keep an eye on him, but her aching head is making her cringe and she doubts anything she eats will stay down. So she lies curled up on Red’s shoulder, tucked under Keith’s jacket while the sun warms her to the bones. She can’t see Keith like this, but the sound of clanging metal floats back to her, along with the occasional muttered comment in Korean. Her eyes drift shut.

* * *

" _Jinjja?!_ ”

Pidge jerks awake and sits up. The sun is low in the sky, blinding her through the trees. She shades her eyes and sees Keith standing over an open maintenance hatch. He stands rigid, staring at something inside Red’s internal mechanisms. Pidge slowly gets to her feet. Her head still pounds and her throat still burns, but this time the world doesn’t spin like a kaleidoscope.

Keith growls and turns sharply away from the shaft, smacking a fist against his leg. He runs a hand through his hair, and glances in her direction.

“What’s wrong?” Pidge asks, stepping gingerly between the solar panels.

Keith is silent for a second, then his shoulders slump and he sighs. “That,” he says, pointing towards the maintenance hatch.

Pidge peers through the opening and gasps. The hatch leads to Red’s main power converter—or what’s left of it. All Pidge can see is a mess of disconnected wires and bent metal, where the gears strained and broke off, smashing and wrecking the machinery around them.

She looks back at Keith, who shakes his head. “Red’s only at thirty percent power,” he says. “And that’s with the sun being out all day, _and_ the solar panels set up.” He jerks his head at the mess below them. “And _that’s_ why. We’re not going to get any more power. There’s just…there’s no way. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to fix that. I don’t even know where to begin. And never mind that the power converter itself is only half-working, and it’s got a force field around it, which means I can’t even _get to it..._ ”

“Because it’s nuclear,” Pidge explains. “We’d need to be in hazmat suits on the castle ship to fix it.”

“Great. _Just_ great.” Keith pinches the bridge of his nose, his other hand clenched at his side. He glances at the solar panels. “What a complete waste of time.”

Pidge frowns. “Have you set off the distress beacon?” she asks. “Green’s not that far away, and it’s probably powered up enough to make it over here.”

“I tried,” Keith says. “But that’s broken, too.”

“Can I see it?”

They climb off the hull and into the dim, chilly cockpit. Keith holds a flashlight while Pidge sits in the pilot’s seat and examines the beacon. After a few moments’ consideration, she pries off a panel, cuts two wires, and splices them onto a barely-charged spare battery. She then connects two more batteries in series, and grins when the beacon finally turns on.

“I’m going to have to hail all frequencies, because half the options on this thing are broken,” Pidge says. “But since there’s hardly any power, it should only reach to Green. And actually,” she cranes her neck up at him, “if you hadn’t set up the solar panels, the batteries wouldn’t have recharged enough to even do that.”

Keith nods. “How badly damaged was Green?”

“The comms are completely shot. But other than that, I think it’s okay.”

Keith frowns and kneels next to Pidge, shining the light on Red’s communications panel. “I lost power when I fell out of the wormhole. But before that, the display said I was transmitting a signal.” He flicks the power switch on and off, but nothing happens. “I think there’s something wrong with the main antenna. I don’t think I was getting through.”

“I heard you,” Pidge murmurs.

Keith looks at her. “You did?”

She nods. “I tried to let you know, too, before the comms went out. But…I guess the wormhole jammed the signal.” She shudders and shrinks down into Keith’s jacket.

Keith opens his mouth to say something, but a _thud_ shakes the cockpit. They glance at each other, then scramble outside.

Green sits on its haunches, looking like a show model compared to Red. Pidge grins, but a delighted “Hey!” turns into a coughing fit. Her chest heaves and spasms, and suddenly she can’t stop coughing, no matter how hard she tries. Her eyes water; her throat and chest hurt and she can’t _breathe_.

She feels Keith rubbing her back, and she chokes for air. But finally, after a good minute, she’s able to get more than a teaspoonful of air between coughs. She takes a deep breath, and one or two more tiny coughs sneak out.

“Man alive, Pidge,” Keith says, his eyes wide. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Pidge replies, wiping her eyes. “The beacon worked.”

Keith glances at his Lion. “Do you think we could use parts from Red to fix your comms? I mean, if my transmitter worked earlier, then we can hook it up to Green, since it has power and apparently a working receiver. The others might be in range and hear us.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Pidge replies. “The castle ship found the Lions when they were whole systems away. If we can get the comms working, we could call out almost as far.”

“Let’s do it.”

* * *

They spend the next couple hours lugging pieces from Red’s cold, dark cockpit to Green’s warm, bright one. Unlike Red, Green’s storage unit had remained intact, and Keith and Pidge’s stomachs had growled audibly when Pidge dug out several MRE’s. However, Pidge’s stomach had threatened to mutiny after eating only half of one. So she’d stopped eating, which had made Keith raise a concerned eyebrow at her. She had ignored him and stood on the pilot’s seat to begin the work. Keith had tried to help after quickly finishing his dinner. But he’d nearly broken a crucial piece of equipment, and Pidge had banned him from touching _anything._

He now leans against the wall, merely watching and respecting the necessity of silence. He wears his jacket now, too; Pidge had been quick to give it back when the sun went down and he started shivering when they were outside.

Pidge plops down in the pilot’s seat with both Red and Green’s transmitters on the console in front of her. One by one, the broken pieces are removed and carefully replaced with functioning ones. The cockpit is quiet, and rain starts to patter gently against the windows.

One piece refuses to fit, and she frowns. _Why is this not… oh, right. Positive wires are red on this thing. Not white. Hello._ Pidge yawns and rubs her eye, and grimaces at the pain in her throat.

“You doing all right?” Keith murmurs.

Pidge looks up; his arms are crossed and his eyes are half shut. His skin is still too pale, and the lighting in the cockpit is not helping the dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m okay,” Pidge replies. Keith nods and his eyes drift shut.

“You should probably get some sleep,” Pidge says gently. “I think there’s blankets in the back.”

“…’m fine…”

Pidge sighs and resumes her work. All is silent for a long while, and her mind wanders to the other Paladins. She can hear the echoes of Lance’s shouts and Hunk’s cries, and she swallows.

The computer is scanning a damaged data chip from Red. Green’s communications settings had been jumbled from Pidge’s fall though the wormhole. The comms need data from Red to reset, and won’t get it until the chip is analyzed. Pidge hopes enough data can be recovered and used with Green’s retained information to figure out where she and Keith even are. And if there’s enough data about the wormhole, then maybe, just maybe, they can do a rough triangulation of the last heard signals from the others, and know where to start looking—

Keith stumbles suddenly, and Pidge jerks her head up in time to see him staggering sideways, blinking fast. He smacks his head against an overhead panel and catches himself on the controls. “Ow,” he mutters, clamping a hand to his forehead. He looks exactly like Lance did when he’d fallen asleep in class and fallen out of his chair.

“You okay?” Pidge asks.

“Yeah.”

“You really need to sleep. I’m serious,” Pidge adds, when Keith looks to be about to protest. His shoulders slump and he sighs. He wanders to the back of the cockpit, and Pidge hears him sit. After a few short minutes, his breaths are deep and even, and she smiles.

An hour passes, and Green’s transmitter is fully functional. Pidge clicks it back into place, yawns again, and checks the computer.

Five hours remain.

Pidge sighs. She can do nothing until the computer finishes. Her fingers tap on the console, and she reflexively reaches to clean her glasses.

Except her fingertips find empty space, and she remembers her glasses are still broken in Keith’s pocket. She leans over the side of the chair and looks back at him.

He’s lying curled up on the floor, huddled in his jacket. His brow is furrowed, and his breath comes in quick shudders. He flinches in his sleep and whispers something in Korean, so faintly Pidge can barely even hear him.

She gets up and pulls two blankets from the storage unit. She lays a folded one down and sits on it near Keith, her back against the wall. A vent breathes warm air on them both, but Keith continues to shiver.

“ _Look out…guys, where are you?”_ he whispers, still asleep.

“Shh, I’m right here,” Pidge murmurs. She scoots closer to him and gently moves his head so that it’s lying on her lap. He stirs, but doesn’t wake.

“ _Guys, please…a-answer your comms!”_ he cries softly.

“Shh,” Pidge breathes, gently stroking his hair. “It’s okay.” She drapes the second blanket around him, and feels him start to relax. The tension eases out of his shoulders and his shaking breaths slow. She rests her hand on his clenched fist and leans her head against the wall to her right. From here she can still see the computer, and she watches the progress bar creep up ever so slowly.

The cozy warmth from the vent and Keith’s deep, steady breaths gradually lull her eyes shut. Moments before sleep covers her in its soft embrace, she feels Keith’s fist slowly unclench. His fingers intertwine with hers, and she falls asleep with a smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Keith’s eyes snap open, and for a split second he’s back at the Garrison and Iverson is going to come thundering down the hall. He can almost hear his booming voice yelling at the cadets. Keith sits bolt upright and flings the blanket off himself, his chest tight and his heart racing.

But he freezes, taking in his surroundings. It’s dark, and he guesses it to be just a couple hours past midnight. There’s a pilot’s seat to his right, and he’s sitting on cool metal…

_Oh, right._

The reality doesn’t ease the tension at all, and he’s now aware of a nagging pain in his elbow. He ignores it—it’s been hurting for the past few days, and he’s done all he can for the cut, anyway. He turns to see Pidge sitting next to him, slumped against the bulkhead, fast asleep.

Except her brow is furrowed and her face is way too pale. She’s not crying out in her sleep again, though, so Keith carefully pushes her bangs back and checks her fever. Her skin _blazes_ under his palm, and his breath catches. He grabs the thermometer, and his stomach clenches at the reading. One hundred _two_ degrees.

This is wrong. Keith has only basic first aid training, but he knows almost instinctively that fevers aren’t supposed to last this long. And they’re _definitely_ not supposed to rise after a whole day of rest. He’s given her Aspirin, she’s stayed hydrated, and she ate something yesterday… _so what’s going on?_

“Why are you still sick?” he murmurs, gently smoothing her hair away from her closed eyes and racking his brain for an answer.

_Beep! Beep!_

Keith glances to the pilot controls. Pidge’s laptop continues to chime at him, telling him it’s done analyzing the data and someone needs to take a look. Keith gets up, silences it, and takes it back with him.

Squinting at the screen in the near-darkness, he learns that the data needs to be manually entered into Green’s comms. Which means messing around with the wiring again. The computer also tells him practically everything about the wormhole and how it was damaged. There are coordinates for the last heard signals from the others, but those coordinates do not factor in the damage done to the wormhole.

Keith studies the data, chewing on his thumbnail. He can do math problems all day—he’d been on track to ace his fifth calculus class before he got kicked out of the Garrison. But the comms are more important than the wormhole data. And he’s only taken the bare minimum of communication engineering classes, and that’s been a whole two years ago. And he’s never messed with the controls on his Lion.

Pidge, on the other hand, could reset the comms with her eyes closed, and Keith knows she’d rather be the one to do it. But she lies sick and asleep at his side, and he’s not about to interrupt the rest she definitely needs. He saves the wormhole data and searches her laptop for her communications textbook. He finds the schematics he needs, as well as a few notes Pidge has written about Green’s comms.

Pidge mutters something in her sleep, her brows knitted. Her breath catches and she flinches, as if dodging an attack. She shakes her head, whispering frantically.

“Shh,” Keith murmurs, gently stroking her hair. A powerful concern wells up inside him, something strong and fierce and protective. He’s seen his teammates in distress before; Lance almost _died_ at one point, but he’s never felt a worry quite like this. Something inside him actually _hurts_ , seeing her so sick. He pauses for a moment, then leans forward and softly kisses her on the forehead. The tension seems to melt out of her, and her breaths become deep and even again. He pulls back, picks up the laptop, and moves to the front of the cockpit.

* * *

 

An hour passes, and Keith is eighty-two percent certain he’s followed the textbook’s instructions correctly. He’s squinting at a mess of wires, trying to follow a green one to its source, when the tiniest of whimpers jerks his attention to the back of the cockpit. Pidge stirs restlessly, grimacing, before her eyes drift open.

“Hey,” Keith murmurs, disentangling himself from the mess of wires. Pidge’s gaze drifts over to him, unfocused and squinting in confusion.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asks.

Pidge blinks at him, and some of the haze in her eyes clears. “ _Bad_ ,” she whispers. She starts to sit up, but freezes, hissing sharply through her teeth. Her hands tighten into fists, but she continues to try to sit up.

“What hurts?” Keith asks, kneeling next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“S-stomach,” she gasps, finally sitting up. “Hurts…really _b-bad…”_ Her voice breaks and her breath shudders. Keith is holding her hand, and her fingers wrap around his in a death grip. She swallows, and suddenly goes still. Her mouth clamps shut.

“Are you going to throw up?” Keith asks.

Pidge nods quickly, and Keith lunges to his feet. He dumps the MRE’S out of their foil bag and brings it back to Pidge. He’s not a second too soon, either. What little Pidge ate yesterday is vomited into the bag in seconds. Keith gently rubs her back while her stomach heaves.

“That’s really gross,” she groans after a minute, and Keith can hear the unspoken apology through the strained fatigue in her voice.

“’S’all right,” he says, handing her a water bottle. “Here, rinse your mouth out.” She sloshes the water around in her mouth before spitting it into the bag. She rubs her forehead, and her eyes drift shut. Keith pats her back and stands, taking the bag to the waste bin.

Yesterday they’d quickly rummaged through the storage unit looking for Pidge’s first aid kit. It had been a short search, however. Pidge had insisted she felt better, and firmly asked Keith to not dig through the mess of spare electronics and computer hardware and continue looking for it. “Those parts are delicate and hard to come by,” she’d explained, and he’d been thankful she hadn’t snapped at him like she tended to snap at Hunk.

Keith shakes his head, mentally kicking himself. He should have pressed the matter. Should have kept looking, even for himself. Pidge’s kit is bound to be better stocked, and he probably should have tended to the poorly bandaged gash on his elbow. But he’d been too tired to even stand last night, and Pidge’s apparent recovery had reassured him, and his elbow hadn’t hurt _that_ bad.

He scowls and carefully digs through the storage unit. To his relief the first aid kit is visible in seconds, just under a few circuit boards on the one shelf they didn’t check.

When he returns, Pidge is sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head buried in her arms.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks, kneeling next to her. “Did…did that help at all?”

Pidge rests her chin on her arms. “Kinda,” she whispers.

Keith frowns and unzips the first aid kit. He finds the anti-nausea pills he’s looking for, along with a curious device. He hands Pidge the medication and studies the instrument. It’s silver and looks like a scientific calculator, although it’s thicker and there’s a scanner on the back.

“Is that a tricorder?” Pidge murmurs. She’s lying curled on her left side now, and the change seems to have helped the pain somewhat. Her eyes are half closed, and her voice no longer has that pained edge to it.

“I think so,” Keith replies. He switches the ancient machine on, and _“enter patient information”_ blinks on the screen. After a moment of consideration, he shrugs and points the scanner at Pidge.

Almost immediately a orange-lettered alert blinks near the top of the screen, and a list of Pidge’s biodata fills the screen. But it’s not her 102.4 degree fever or the dehydration advisory that sends a gut wrenching dread through him.

_Acute appendicitis detected. Scan of infected area required for further analysis._

“Pidge, where exactly does your stomach hurt?” Keith asks. He’s hoping this thing is wrong; maybe it’s not configured right ( _it’s gotta be a glitch,_ he thinks, _it has to be),_ but Pidge moves her hand to her lower right abdomen, and he swallows.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. This thing needs a closer look.” He carefully pulls her sweatshirt up a bit, exposing just enough skin for the tricorder to get a reading. He holds the tricorder against her stomach as gently as he can, but she still flinches at the slightest touch.

_Acute appendicitis confirmed. Slight rupture of appendix detected. Patient transfer to nearest healing pod required immediately._

“We don’t _have_ a healing pod,” he mutters, pulling the tricorder away and fixing Pidge’s shirt. He scrolls through the list of treatment options, and his heart starts to pound when the only other option is _Medication no longer fully effective. Immediate surgery required._

Keith digs through the first aid kit anyway, and finds a shot of antibiotics. The tricorder says it won’t do much, but it’s better than nothing. The shot can be administered to Pidge’s forearm, and Keith gently rolls her sleeve up.

Pidge flinches when he gives her the shot. “What was that for?” she whispers, squinting at him.

“That was antibiotics. You… you have appendicitis,” Keith replies.

“Oh,” Pidge murmurs. Her brow furrows, like she’s trying to figure something out. But her fever is still burning, and she doesn’t seem to put it together. She blinks at him, her eyes bleary and confused, and Keith decides to skip over the depressing details.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, smoothing her hair back. She nods slowly, but his reassurance does nothing for the worried lines on her face. He tucks a folded blanket under her head as a makeshift pillow. She blinks at him once more before her eyes drift shut and she goes limp with sleep.

Keith scrolls through the options on the tricorder, finding nothing that can help them. Suddenly a new warning appears, bold red letters filling the screen. Keith’s eyes widen, a chilling fear surging through him, and he drops the tricorder and springs back to his work.

As soon as he gets the comms back online, he’s going to call for help on every friendly channel. Allura or one of the other Paladins will hear him and come to their aid. He connects the laptop to the system and punches in the necessary commands. The computer loads the information, and he runs a trembling hand through his hair. The tricorder continues to blink at him out of the corner of his eye.

_Estimated patient survival time: 36 hours._

* * *

 

“…If anyone can hear me, please respond.”

The pink morning sun trickles through the windows, and Keith ends his fifth call for help. Pidge continues to sleep behind him, but her slumber is increasingly broken by random mumbling. She’s been tossing and turning for the past few hours, and one time she cried out in pain. Keith had hurried to her side, but she hadn’t woken.

He looks back at her, and she’s still for the moment. Her face is a pale gray, and her breath shudders, and she shivers under the blanket he’s tucked around her shoulders. Keith wishes he could give her something for the pain, but the tricorder warns him against giving her any more Aspirin. And that’s all they have.

Keith turns back to the comms and send out another transmission. It’s the only thing he can do now; Green won’t even budge with Keith at the controls. The Lions will fly only when their Paladins are piloting them, and Keith isn’t even sure Green _can_ fly. Not that leaving the planet will help much anyway. Despite having pieced together the information about the wormhole, Keith can only narrow down the other Paladins’ locations to a few systems. And they’re all several days’ travel away.

He hopes he’s wrong about that. The others _have_ to be closer. The castle ship _has_ to be an easy wormhole jump away. He’s figured out their own coordinates; all that needs to happen is for Allura to hear him and make a quick wormhole jump.

Keith’s already rechecked the communications system, and turned on Green’s distress beacon. He’s even sent and received a test transmission on a portable communicator. But he goes through the connections again anyway, double checking the wiring and the channels he’s hailing, refusing to think about what could happen if he’s hailing the wrong people, or if he’s somehow forgotten to connect something and he’s not transmitting into space at all.

“Keith.” Pidge’s voice, weak and just barely louder than a whisper. Keith jumps and turns to find her sitting on her knees, squinting out the window. Her hand is pressed to her side and her face is twisted in pain, but she’s pointing at something outside.

The morning sun just barely peeks through the trees, though it’s just enough to light up the clearing. Keith squints, wondering what it is Pidge sees.

He spies the situation after a second. Humanoid aliens are surrounding the unprotected Red Lion, prying its solar panels off.

“Hey!” Keith yells, springing to his feet. He grabs his bayard and slams his fist on the exit button. Green opens its mouth, and he barely hears Pidge’s, “Keith, wait—!” before he’s dumped on the ground.

His feet fly out from under him the second he lands. Freezing rain fell last night, and he falls hard on a sheen of slick, icy grass. He hears a _crack_ under his side where he landed on his bayard. But the stabbing pain and the agonized scream that escapes his lips tells him his weapon isn’t what broke.

The aliens turn from Red and run towards him. Keith growls through his teeth and pushes himself up. He’s gasping for air, each breath a dagger stabbing into his lungs. He tries to activate his bayard. It flickers and stutters before shorting out. He hits it against the heel of his palm, but it remains dead.

“Stay back!” he snarls at the aliens, dropping his bayard and raising his fists. He sways on his feet; the pain brings tears to his eyes and he can’t _breathe_.

The aliens are now mere feet away. They wear black and grey tactical gear, and every single one of them has a blaster at their hips. They surround Keith, and he staggers and turns, forcing bravado and silently daring them to step closer.

“Keith!” Pidge yells. He turns, and she’s standing by Green’s snout. Her face is _white,_ and she’s visibly shaking. She grips her bayard, but it’s not activated. The aliens turn, too, and some of them step towards her.

 _Diplomacy first._ Allura’s voice breaks through his panicked thoughts like a brick through glass. Keith swallows and starts to lower his hands.

“We are Paladins of Voltron,” he begins, his voice quavering, “and we mean you no harm—”

Sharp pain on the back of his head.

His knees buckling.

Pidge’s scream.

Darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

“Keith, wait—!”

But Keith is already barreling out of Green, bayard in hand. Pidge gulps and looks back at the aliens. They continue to pry off Red’s solar panels and stack them in a heap near the Lion’s forepaw.

She hears a stumble and a crash, and Keith’s pained yell echoes back into the cockpit. Pidge snatches up her bayard and lunges to her feet. But the pain in her stomach is a burning, twisting knot, and she immediately doubles over, gasping. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the aliens turn and approach Keith. She groans through her teeth and pushes herself up and out of the Lion.

Once outside, Pidge stumbles on the icy grass and grips the edge of Green’s snout for dear life. Keith has gotten back to his feet and stands in a combat-ready stance, both fists up. But his breath is short and quick and his arms are trembling. The elfish aliens continue to approach.

Pidge remembers being told by a laughing Lance how Keith had been ready to fight the first tiny Arusian he’d met. She’d giggled too, imagining how ridiculous the fight would have been had Allura actually let him.

But she’s not laughing now. These aliens look dangerous: their tactical pants and jackets gives them the appearance of assassins or mercenaries who mean business. And the shining blasters strapped to their hips look like they could take an arm off.

Maybe these aliens meant no harm. Maybe they were just curious. But they came prepared for a fight, and Keith’s about to give it to them.

He’s about to get himself killed.

“Keith!” Pidge cries. The aliens and the Red Paladin turn, and some of the aliens start to approach Pidge. Their faces are stern and unreadable, and it’s everything Pidge can do to not activate her bayard. The scene sways and drifts in front of her, not unlike her feverish nightmares. But her stomach twists again, and the sunrise is blinding, and the wind is biting and cold.

This is definitely real.

Keith seems to realize his mistake, and he lowers his fists. “We are Paladins of Voltron,” he says, and for a second the aliens seem to consider his change in tactic. “We mean you no harm—”

But one of the aliens draw his blaster and cracks it hard across the back of Keith’s head. Keith’s eyes roll back and he collapses to the ground.

Pidge screams, a wordless, desperate cry. But Keith doesn’t move. The alien who struck Keith says something, and some of the other aliens step closer to her.

“Please…we mean you…n-no harm…” she gasps. They’re a foot away, and Pidge has to crane her neck up to see their faces. Her words have no effect; their piercing blue eyes hold no trace of compassion. Behind them, another alien ties Keith’s hands behind his back and fits a gag in his mouth.

“Leave him alone!” Pidge shrieks. She wants to run over to Keith _so bad,_ but the other aliens surround her and she’s shaking so hard she can barely stand. She shrinks back, bumping into Green. Keith is slung over the alien’s back like a sack of potatoes.

One of the aliens, a female, speaks to the others in her native tongue, and her voice has the slightest tinge of worry. The others nod and the female reaches for Pidge.

“Stay _back!”_ Pidge cries. She activates her bayard and lunges, striking at them. But she misses, and motion makes the ground lurch. Pain stabs through her stomach, and she staggers and almost falls. The female alien snatches Pidge’s bayard from her hand.

“No!” Pidge cries, reaching wildly for it. But the vertigo hits again, along with another searing bout of pain. An agonized cry escapes her clenched teeth, and her legs start to give out.

The world drifts out of focus, and the aliens’ hurried voices start to sound soft and faraway. Pidge is vaguely aware of the female catching her before she falls. She flails, weakly punching thin air, but the alien scoops her up, pinning her arms against her side. Pidge squirms, feebly crying out. But the alien is strong, and doesn’t let her go.

* * *

 

Everything is a blur after that. Colors and sounds blend together. Keith disappears, but she doesn’t know when, or where he’s taken. The aliens talk to each other in a smooth, lilting language that fades in and out of Pidge’s feverish haze. Pidge tries to talk to them, tries to tell them that she and Keith are not the enemy. But she’s shivering and she can’t even form words. Her eyes drift shut despite her best efforts, and the sounds drift to silence.

The next thing she is aware of is cold metal under her back and calves. She opens her eyes; she’s lying on her back, staring at soft white lighting.

An alien appears in her field of vision. She cringes and yelps, but the alien isn’t even looking at her. He’s talking to the same female alien who carried Pidge, one of maybe five or six in the room.

Pidge is lying on a table, and the realization sends chills up her spine. Her thoughts immediately go to Shiro. How he was captured by the Galra. How he was separated from those he cared about. How he was likely strapped to a cold metal table, the subject of who knew how many experiments.

“Please….I—we’re not your enemies,” Pidge says weakly. “We didn’t mean to crash on your planet.” She tries to sit up, but the alien standing behind her head pulls her back down. He grabs Pidge’s wrists and pins them up by her head, and her breath catches in her throat.

“Let me _go!”_ she cries. “Please!” Her chest is tight and her stomach is on _fire._ She kicks and squirms, but another alien grabs her ankles.

“I am not your enemy! _Please!”_ Pidge screams at them, tears starting to slide down her face. But the aliens surround her. Her shirt is pulled up a bit, exposing the painful area, and she flinches away. She cranes her neck, trying to see what they’re doing. A hand on her forehead forces her head back, but not before a small silver knife glints out of the corner of her eye.

She’s hyperventilating now, her breath choking and spasming. She’s sobbing, too, hot tears streaming down the sides of her face. She can’t breathe and everything hurts and the aliens seem focused only on their experiment. Focused only on hurting her even more. She wrenches her arms against the hands holding her down, and cries harder when she can’t move.

“Please….d-don’t—”

A cloth is clamped over her mouth, and her chest heaves with muffled sobs as a sickly sweet smell fills her nose and mouth. She gags, and squirms and fights…

The room drifts to black and she goes limp.

* * *

 

Keith opens his eyes to a small, dimly-lit, chilly room. He’s sitting slumped against the wall, his wrists bound behind his back and dry fabric stuffed in his mouth. He tries to push himself up, but groans and slumps back against the wall. He’s pretty sure he broke one or two of his ribs when he fell, and the back of his head throbs in time with his heart.

He remembers the aliens approaching Pidge seconds before he was knocked out. This sends a jolt of panic through him, and he forces himself to sit up, hissing with pain. He glances around the room through narrowed eyes, searching for a way to get out. A frustrated growl escapes past the gag when he fumbles for his dagger and finds the sheath empty.

The wall in front of him goes transparent, revealing two of the aliens standing out in the hall. One holds a small black toolbox, and both have blasters strapped to their hips. The taller, empty-handed alien presses a button, and the door _hisses_ open. Keith tries to back away from them, bumping his shoulders against the wall. They enter the cell and the door slides shut behind them.

The taller alien strides towards Keith and kneels on one knee next to him. Keith flinches away, but the alien grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him forward. Keith yelps at the pain the motion causes.

A dagger flashes, and suddenly the cords around his wrists fall away. The alien steps back and Keith yanks the gag from his mouth.

“On your feet,” the alien orders. His accent is thick, but there’s no mistaking the threat if Keith dares to disobey. Keith grits his teeth and pushes himself to his feet.

“Remove of your shirt and coat.”

Keith swallows. He takes his jacket off, and the alien holds his hand out for it. Keith hands it to him and slowly removes his shirt, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out when the motion pulls at his broken ribs.

The alien hands his clothes to the one with the toolbox, and removes silver cuffs from his pocket. He grabs Keith’s wrists and cuffs them together in front of him, then raises the Paladin’s arms above his head. Something in the wall hums, and an electromagnet secures Keith’s wrists to the wall.

Keith is breathing fast now. “So, are you gonna start asking stupid questions now?” he asks, forcing an edge to his voice though the words almost stick in his dry mouth.

“You will be silent,” the alien replies, taking Keith’s clothes back.

The second alien opens the toolbox and removes a black device. It’s flat and made of cloth and metal. The alien fastens the device like a brace around Keith’s broken ribs. He then reaches up and presses his fingers and thumb against the sides of Keith’s jaw, forcing his mouth open. Keith jerks his head, but the alien has his jaw in an iron grip. The alien fits a rubber mouth guard in his mouth, and Keith almost gags.

“Bite down,” the first alien instructs. Keith glares at him, but clamps his mouth around the mouth guard.

 The second alien presses a few buttons on the device. It emits a quiet hum, and the alien steps back. For a second nothing happens.

The hum grows louder, and a sharp, aching pain throbs through Keith’s chest. He jerks against the restraints, groaning, his teeth grinding against the mouth guard. He can _feel_ his bones sliding around under the device, and the pain makes him gasp. His ribs are slowly shifted, but he can’t tell if the break is getting worse or better. The pain pulses along the broken bones, and it hurts so bad he tastes bile. Keith wrenches against the cuffs on his wrists, crying out and struggling to get away from the device. But he’s held in place, and the brace continues its work. The room drifts in and out of focus, his vision going dark at the edges.

Finally, after an excruciating amount of time, the device switches off. Keith slumps, panting, the cuffs the only reason he’s still standing. The device is removed, and Keith spits out the mouth guard. Suddenly the cuffs are removed from his wrists, and he stumbles. He catches himself, staggering and forcing himself to remain standing.

“What was _that_ for?” Keith croaks out, his arms curled around his chest.

“It was healing of your bones,” the alien holding his clothes states. “Hold out your hurt arm.”

Keith swallows and obeys, straightening a little. The second alien cuts the bandages off his elbow and cleans the wound with a sharp-smelling solution that burns his arm. The alien then applies an adhesive bandage and steps away. He picks up his toolbox, nods at the other alien, and leaves the cell.

“I am called Jax,” the remaining alien says, tossing Keith his shirt and jacket. “Who are you, and how came you by the Red Lion?”

“K-Keith,” he replies, gingerly tugging his shirt back on. But to his surprise, the motion hurts far less. “And I told you guys. Pidge and I are Paladins of Voltron.” He pauses. “Where is Pidge?”

“You will not be asking of questions,” Jax snaps. His arms are crossed and he’s staring at Keith with cold steel in his blue eyes. “And you are lying.”

“No, I’m not. Where’s Pidge—”

“Silence.” Jax glares at him for a moment. “The Red Lion was destroyed when we found it. And you could not activate of the bayard. You are _not_ the Red Paladin.”

Keith tenses. “The Lion was damaged because I fought _Zarkon!_ I barely made it out of there!”

Jax huffs a mirthless laugh. “No one goes alone to fight Zarkon.”

“I did.”

“That would be stupid. And Paladins are not stupid.”

Keith has no comeback for that one, and he can feel his face flush a little.

“You are a liar and thief. You stole of the Red Lion, destroyed it, and attempted to kidnap of the Green Paladin and Lion.”

“I _did not!_ ” Keith protests. His hands curl into fists. “Ask Pidge—ask the Green Paladin.”

“The Green Paladin is _dead_.”

For a second the words echo in Keith’s mind, floating around and making no sense. Because that can’t be true. Pidge didn’t die. _Pidge didn’t…she didn’t…no—_

But his mind starts to race. She’d only had thirty-six hours to live. And she’d been so sick, and looked so fragile when he’d last seen her, like she’d shatter if touched. And Jax’s eyes remain on his, cold and _angry._ The words start to take root, growing into a cold fear, and Keith feels his stomach drop. “ _What?”_

“The Green Paladin is dead. Because of you! You kidnapped her and hurt her and did not care for her when she fell ill. The infection inside her had spread too far. We tried to save her, but we could not. _You_ are the reason for the death of a _Paladin of Voltron!_ ”

Jax sounds like he’s far, far away. The room spins, and Keith is breathing fast. Fury boils up inside him, hot and fiery. He’s shaking, trembling with a rage he doesn’t even try to control.

 _“LIAR!!”_ he screams, lunging at Jax. Jax shoots a hand out and strikes him square in the chest. Keith falls hard, gasping.

“It is not I who is lying!” Jax retorts. “Any hope you had of somehow stealing away of the Green Paladin is lost. You will tell us the truth. And you will be handed over to the true members of Voltron.” He glares down at Keith. “Death is too kind a punishment for you.”

“You’re _lying!”_ Keith snarls, pushing himself to his feet.

Jax takes one precise step backward. “You are not worthy to call yourself a Paladin. You will tell us the truth of who you are.”

But Keith isn’t listening. Another scream tears out of his throat; blood pounds through his brain and his vision is literally red at the edges. He throws his whole body into attacking Jax, aiming a solid punch at the alien’s jaw.

The transparent door swiftly hisses shut, and Keith’s fist slams into the glass, making his arm throb. He’s breathing hard through his teeth, glaring at Jax. “Open the door!” he yells.

Jax regards him silently, his blue eyes narrow and sharp. Keith smacks his palm against the barrier, but Jax turns and marches away.

“ _Get back here!”_ Keith shouts, pounding both fists against the glass. “You could have saved her! _Sal-inja!!”_

The glass goes opaque again. Keith slams his fists against the wall, screaming in Korean. He kicks the barrier, but it refuses to give. He takes a running start and throws his whole body against it. But it remains immoveable, and Keith lets out a frustrated shriek.

His arms eventually start to weaken, and his legs wobble under him. He drops to his knees, gasping, his head pounding.

The vicious fog in his mind clears a bit, and he recalls the dreadful countdown on the tricorder. He’s never had appendicitis himself, but he’s heard plenty of stories. Stories of his classmates being rushed to the hospital, “if we’d gotten him there any later…”

And even though he’s their prisoner, the aliens had used their technology to heal his _broken bones._ And Jax had seemed to have a healthy respect for Voltron and the Green Paladin. The anger in his eyes had been _real._

If they could have saved her, they would have.

_The Green Paladin is dead._

Pidge had been sick with a fever from the moment Keith found her. She’d been under his care, and she’d only gotten worse. _Should have found her first aid kit sooner, should have fixed the comms faster, it’s all my fault…_

Keith gulps, his breath shuddering. He shifts a little, and something rattles in his jacket pocket. He pulls out Pidge’s broken glasses, the glass clinking softly in his trembling palm.

_Pidge is dead._

Keith clamps a hand over his mouth, muffling an agonized, screeching sob.

* * *

 

Darkness gives way to soft grey, then white, and suddenly she’s blinking at lights above her head. She’s not lying on a table anymore, but a bed. The sheets are soft under her palm, and she’s _warm_. Not the feverish heat that would soon give way to bone-aching chills, but comfortable, cozy warmth. She tries to raise her head, but it’s just too much work, she’s too tired. She snuggles back into the pillow, her eyes falling shut.

_Am I on the castle ship…?_

She tries to ignore the though the thought. It doesn’t matter. Obviously she’s somewhere safe, and she isn’t sick anymore. She can feel herself drifting back into the comfy, soothing folds of sleep.

_We got captured by aliens._

And with that, Pidge sits bolt upright. The sudden motion sends a stabbing pain through her stomach, and she cringes and hisses through her teeth.

“Aie!” a voice to her left exclaims. Pidge glances over, and gasps when she sees the same female alien from the clearing quickly getting up from a chair. The alien steps towards Pidge, and she shrinks back.

The alien seems to notice Pidge’s alarm. “You are safe now,” she says. “I am not here to harm you. But you must be careful to move not so much, or you will harm yourself.” She’s speaking in her native tongue, and a translator on her jacket collar echoes her words in English. Except it’s not configured correctly, Pidge realizes distantly; the grammar is a little off.

Pidge’s fists curl on the sheets. She considers bolting from the room, but despite the surge of adrenaline, her body feels heavy and weak. “Where am I?” she whispers. The terror from the experiment table surges back, and she trembles. “What… what did you…?”

“You are on the planet Ceti Alpha Nine,” the alien says. She unzips a small black bag. “I am Raynia. We are Deltans. And you were sick. An infection was inside you.”

Pidge remembers Keith’s voice, soft and scared. _You…you have appendicitis..._ But she’d been too sick to attach meaning to his words, and his tone had gone warm and reassuring two seconds later. So she’d trusted him, even though she hadn’t understood.

“We had to do surgery,” Raynia continues. She gestures for Pidge to hold her arm out. Pidge obeys, watching her every move.

But Raynia simply holds a thermometer against Pidge’s arm. “The infection is gone,” she continues. “How do you feel now? Do you still have hurt?”

Raynia’s tone is kind, and Pidge _is_ hurting and exhausted, but she refuses to take the Deltan’s words at face value. “I’m fine. Why did you take us prisoner? What do you want from us?”

“You are not our prisoner, Green Paladin,” Raynia replies. She removes the thermometer, and nods in approval at the reading. “We rescued you from the thief who has destroyed of the Red Lion and tried to kidnap of you.”

Pidge’s eyes widen, and she stiffens. “You mean Keith?”

“If that is his name, yes.” Raynia stands and moves to a counter with a sink.

“No, you…you’re wrong. Keith’s not…” Raynia is looking at her again, frowning. “Keith is the Red Paladin. He’s not a thief. He…he saved my life.”

Raynia squints at her, then moves to the door and opens it. “Jax!” she calls into the hall. “Come quickly.”

Pidge is trembling again, remembering how roughly they’d taken Keith prisoner. She tries not to imagine what they undoubtedly did to him when he awoke, what they could _still be doing right now—_

“Green Paladin.” Pidge looks to the door to see Raynia standing with a taller, sterner looking Deltan. He stands with arms crossed, speaking without a translator. Pidge recognizes him as the one who struck Keith, and she glares at him.

“Who was the boy with you?” he asks. “Is he not a thief?”

“No, he’s not. He’s the Red Paladin! What have you done with him? He better not be hurt—”

“He is not hurt.” Something gives in Jax’s hard gaze, the tiniest bit of confusion wrinkling his brow.

“I want to see him,” Pidge says, her voice shaking despite her best efforts at staying calm.

Raynia switches off her translator and speaks hurriedly to Jax. He nods once and swiftly exits the room.

“Where is Keith?” Pidge demands, and she can’t stop her voice from pitching high into panic.

Raynia clicks her translator back on. “We must confirm of his identity.” She moves to the wall and switches on a display, like an interactive blackboard. “You will see him through this. Speak not until you are told, and only answer of Jax’s questions.”

The display flickers and changes to a camera feed of a small, unfurnished room. Pidge gasps, her hand flying up to her mouth. Keith lies on the floor, curled up with his back to the camera. In front of him, the wall shimmers to transparent glass, and a door slides open. Keith flinches at the sound, and sits up quickly. His hand flies automatically to the sheath on his back, but his fist clenches on thin air where the hilt of his knife should have been.

“On your feet,” Jax says. He and one other Deltan stand in the doorway, blasters drawn and aimed at Keith.

Keith pushes himself to his feet without a word. His hands are limp at his sides, and he doesn’t even look at the aliens.

“Place your hands on your head and turn to face behind you,” Jax says. Keith silently obeys, and Pidge’s chest tightens when she sees his face. Tear stains catch in the light, and his red-rimmed eyes are fixed on the floor. He stands still, slumped and defeated, any fight in him long gone.

 _What did they do to you, Keith?_ Pidge looks at Jax, who stands tall and stern, and anger churns inside her.

Speakers in the cell turn on with a _pop,_ and Keith cringes.

Jax glances up at the camera. “Identify this person,” he says. Keith frowns in confusion. Raynia nods at Pidge.

“H-his name is Keith Kogane,” Pidge says, and Keith stiffens. “He is the Red Paladin, the right arm of Voltron.”

“ _Pidge?_ ” Keith whispers, his tear-worn voice raw with disbelief.

“Silence,” Jax orders, and Pidge wants to _hit_ him. “How came this one by the Red Lion?”

“It had been stolen by the Galra,” Pidge says, doing her best to keep her voice calm and controlled. “We snuck aboard their ship, found the Lion, and Keith flew it out.”

“How did the Lion get so badly damaged?” Jax asks.

“We…he…” Pidge looks back at Keith and breaks off. He’s shaking, his face crumpled and his eyes squeezed shut.

 _Oh, Keith, it’s okay, it’s okay._ Pidge wants to jump through the screen and hug him tight. But she can hardly sit up straight, the pain is still too much. And Raynia would stop her from running through the halls to find Keith, and Jax would interrupt any soothing words she’d try to say through the intercom.

So she clenches her fists and forces her voice to remain calm. “We were trapped by the Galrans. He saw Zarkon, alone, and tried to annihilate the leader of the Galra Empire.” It’s a far more flattering statement than the verbal smack down she’d been ready to deliver the second she’d heard of Keith’s stunt. But the Deltans don’t need to know that, and Pidge doubts she’ll have the heart to lecture Keith about it for quite some time.

Jax is silent a moment, studying Keith. “How came you two to our planet?” he asks.

“The wormhole we were using was destroyed by one of the Galrans,” Pidge replies. “I don’t know how, though. We fell through it and crashed here.”

“Understood.” Jax nods at his counterpart, and the two Deltans lower their blasters. “You are free to leave this cell, Red Paladin.”

Keith lowers his hands and opens his eyes. There’s a look of icy cold venom in his gaze as he straightens. He turns slowly, and Pidge sees his hands clench into fists.

“Don’t do it, Keith,” Pidge breathes, even though every inch of her wishes Keith _would_ just punch Jax in the face.

Jax must’ve read the look in Keith’s eyes, too. He stiffens and hovers a hand over his holstered blaster.

But apparently the microphone picked up Pidge’s voice, for Keith has stopped moving. He stands with his back rigid, undoubtedly glaring at Jax.

“Apologies, Paladin,” Jax says. He removes his hand from his blaster and places it in a fist over his chest. He bows quickly at the waist, eyes downcast.

“Where is Pidge?” Keith says, his voice tight.

Jax straightens. “The Green Paladin is in the infirmary. You may be escorted there, if you wish of it.”

“Yes,” Keith replies. He steps out of the cell, the camera feed cuts out, and Pidge’s shoulders slump with a heavy sigh.


	5. Chapter 5

Keith has no watch, but he’s positive the walk to the infirmary isn’t as long as it feels. He walks behind Jax, focusing on his surroundings instead of how badly he still wants to slam his clenched fists into the Deltan’s face. They’re in a building complex that spans several acres, and twice they had to step outside into the grey evening light and a growing snowstorm on their way. They pass a few other Deltans in the halls, all of whom briefly place a fist over their chest in some kind of salute to Jax and step respectfully out of their way. Keith refuses to look at them, but out of the corner of his eye he can see them staring at him as he passes.

A tiny part of Keith is curious as to what this place even is. All of the Deltans have a professional air about them, some of them consulting information on tablets as they walk through the halls. And outside, though the dim light and falling snow block his view, Keith can see what looks like a construction site on the far end of the complex.

Jax opens a door and holds it open for Keith. “You will enter here for decontamination. You will be guided to the Green Paladin after.”

Keith’s jaw tightens and he gives Jax the briefest of nods before stepping through. The door closes behind him, and Keith glances back through its window to see Jax walking back the way they came. Before he can even wonder what he’s up to, two more Deltans greet him with a bow and a fist over their chest.

The decontamination process turns out to simply be a shower while his clothes are disinfected. Keith takes the shortest shower of his life, despite the soothing warmth of the water. He pulls his shirt back on, wrinkling his nose at the stinging, overly clean smell. His dagger and broken bayard lie near his boots, and he snatches them up. Once Keith is ready, another Deltan guides him down several more halls. He offers Keith a smile, and there’s something that looks like actual sympathy in his eyes. But Keith remains tense, his anger only further kindled at what could easily be another form of deception. They hurt him, badly, when they healed him, and lied to him after. He’s not about to let it happen again.

_They probably did the same thing to Pidge._

Keith quickly tries not to think about that, because it makes him hot with anger and he can’t afford to strangle any of the Deltans, no matter how much his fingers itch to do so. He clenches his fists around the edges of his sleeves so his nails don’t dig into his palm.

They finally stop at a closed door near the end of a hall. The Deltan raps twice on the door, and a female Deltan steps out and closes the door behind her. Keith’s escort salutes her the same way the others saluted Jax. He speaks to her in their native tongue, indicating Keith.

“Red Paladin,” the female says through a translator, bowing at the waist with her fist over her chest. “I am Raynia,” she continues when she straightens. “I have been caring for the Green Paladin. She is recovering well, but it will be several days before she is fully well.”

“What _exactly_ did you do to her?” Keith demands, keeping only some of the edge out of his voice.

“An infection was inside of her. The infection was removed surgically,” Raynia says.

Keith’s stomach churns, and he has to bite back a vicious threat. If they’d treated her even marginally close to how he’d been treated…

Only the apparent respect Keith is being shown now keeps him from lashing out. “I want to see her,” he says.

Raynia nods. “We are experiencing severe weather. It would be good of you to remain here with her for the next several hours, to ensure the safety of both of you.” She pushes the door open.  Keith steps inside, but the two Deltans remain conversing quietly in the hall, and the door falls shut behind him. The room is small, medically equipped with a chair in the corner and a half-raised hospital bed in the middle.

And there Pidge is, sitting small and pale in the bed in her familiar sweatshirt and shorts, craning her neck to see out into the hall.

“Keith!” she exclaims.

Keith rushes across the room in less than a second. Pidge reaches out for him and he catches her and holds her close. She buries her face against his chest, her arms tight around him. Keith is shaking, suddenly, and his throat closes up and he can’t speak. An overwhelming sense of relief and fear surges through him, twisting his stomach and causing his breath to shudder. Relief at seeing Pidge alive and well, and fear from knowing that had they been found any later, _if the Deltans hadn’t gotten to her in time—_

“You okay?” Pidge whispers, pulling back and brushing his face with her thumb.

Keith gulps, nodding, and Pidge’s hand remains cool against his cheek.

“I saw you on the cameras,” she says softly. “You didn’t look okay.” She pauses, searching his eyes for something. “What did they do to you?” she whispers.

Pidge is asking what Keith meant to ask her, and he knows she shouldn’t be. Pidge was the one who almost died, not Keith. She shouldn’t be the one worrying now.

But they’re sitting too close for him to lie. So he takes a deep breath, hoping his voice doesn’t tremble.

“I broke my ribs when I fell, and they healed them with some kind of tech,” he begins slowly. “But they thought I was a thief or something.”

“Did they hurt you?” Pidge asks, her eyes hardening.

“No. I-I mean, they didn’t…” His vision blurs and his voice is definitely shaking. He breaks off and looks away.

“It’s okay,” Pidge murmurs, gently brushing a bit of hair out of his eyes. The tender motion is almost too much, and his breath hitches, and he has to try _really hard_ not to break down right there. He swallows and pulls back a little, steeling himself as he catches Pidge’s hand and holds it. Her eyes are wide, radiating an intense worry he can’t bring himself to look at.

Keith takes a deep breath. “The tech they used _did_ hurt,” he says finally, his voice wavering a little no matter how hard he tries to steady it. “But they didn’t torture me.” He pauses, taking in the warmth of her hand, the soft sound of her breathing, willing himself to calm down. _She’s alive. She’s alive and she’s gonna be okay_. He doesn’t want to tell her about Jax’s lie, but her gaze is piercing and worried and won’t let him go until he’s finished.

“Jax did, however, tell me you were dead,” Keith says. “And I…I believed him.”

“ _Jerks!_ ” Pidge exclaims, startling him when her voice suddenly rises and shatters into tears. She lunges into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. And this time, when Keith holds her, she’s the one shaking.

“I-It’s all right,” Keith murmurs. “You got better and set them straight. That part’s over now.”

“It’s not all right!” Her voice is broken and raw with tears. “I saw what they d-did to you. They’re j-jerks and they h-hurt you and lied to you and… I’m s-so s-sorry...”

She breaks off, crying so hard she can’t speak. Keith gently rubs her back, murmuring again that it’s over now, that part’s over now _._ But she still sobs uncontrollably, and a thought strikes him, the same thought he’d been forcing away on his walk here.

“Pidge.” He pulls back, his hands on her arms. She’s still crying, and the misery on her face makes something twist painfully inside his chest. “Did they hurt you?” he asks.

She rubs her eyes and doesn’t answer for second, and Keith feels that all-too-familiar anger begin to burn. “Pidge. _Did they hurt you?”_

“N-no,” she chokes out. “They…they just…they didn’t explain anything _,_ they just w-went on with whatever they were doing…I thought they were going t-to do something…like the G-Galrans did to Shiro…” She ducks her head. “I panicked, right before they put me under. And they used c-chloroform or something, like they did way back when, which d-didn’t help.”

Keith pulls her close again, partly so she doesn’t see his absolute _fury_. Pidge’s crying is muffled against his chest, and a hot, boiling rage churns in his stomach.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he states. It’s not until he hears the words that he realizes he said it out loud.

Pidge’s arms tighten around him. “W-who?” she chokes.

“Jax,” Keith replies. “I think he’s the leader around here. He allowed this to happen.” Keith grits his teeth. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No.” Pidge straightens and looks Keith dead in the eye. Her watery gaze is scared and miserable and _exhausted._ “Don’t even _talk_ like that.” She swipes at the tears still sliding down her face. “They’ll h-hear you and then you’ll get locked up for _real._ ” Her voice cracks and she gulps. “P-please don’t talk like that,” she whispers. “We need their help.”

Keith is silent a moment, his hands and shoulders trembling. That same fierce, protective concern from before is surging through him again. It hadn’t ever gone away, really, but now it’s coupled with a violent rage, one that would push him do anything to protect a teammate, _anything_ to keep a loved one from getting hurt again.

 But he looks at her tear-streaked face, at the dark circles under her eyes and the way she sits tense with pain she hasn’t mentioned yet. There’s desperation in her eyes, and logic filters through the anger storming through his mind. She’s right, of course, and attempting to even _fight_ Jax would be as stupid as taking on Zarkon alone.

Keith looks down at his hands. Of course he would say something that could tear them apart. That’s how it’s always been, and the sudden realization makes him sick. He can almost hear Hunk’s disbelief when he suggested leaving Allura in the hands of the Galra, or Coran’s increasingly panicked orders to _not engage Zarkon._ But the worst is the echo of Pidge’s scream, just as he was knocked unconscious and she was taken captive, all because he leapt to a decision without even thinking.

And now here he is, running his mouth and risking it all happening again.

_You are not worthy to call yourself a Paladin._

On this point, Jax had spoken the truth.

“I’m sorry,” Keith murmurs. Pidge leans forward and hugs him, and he tucks her carefully against his chest. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but Keith can hear her trying not to cry.

“I j-just don’t want to l-lose you _again_ ,” she gasps. Further realization hits him like vicious kick to the gut. She’s already lost so much, been hurt _so much._ And his words, _his_ actions, have hurt her even more, continue to do so because he doesn’t _think—_

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers shakily.

She’s still half-crying, because the damage has been done. She’s been frightened and basically tortured by the Deltans, and faced with the possibility of it all happening again because Keith can’t seem to ever work as a team, not even a team of just two people _._

But his throat is choking up again, and he can’t bring himself to burden Pidge with even a hint of his own self loathing. Not when they’re both about to shatter under the weight of all that’s happened.

So he holds her close, his hand gentle against her hair, and whispers the one thing he can get past the ache in his throat. “ _I will never leave you. I promise.”_

His voice is so faint that he’s not sure she heard him. But her arms tighten around him, and her shaky, trembling breaths even out just a little bit.

For long, long minutes, the only sound in the room is that of their breathing. Eventually Pidge stills in Keith’s arms, slumping against him. He looks down at her; her eyes are closed and her light breathing is slow and even. An unbearable fondness floods through him, the affection practically _hurting_ when it’s combined with the weight of his mistakes.

“You’re gonna get a crick in your neck,” Keith manages to whisper, gently nudging her so she stirs awake. She pulls back, her eyes barely staying open. Keith glances around, looking for the mechanism that will flatten the bed out for her, so she can sleep more comfortably.

Pidge rubs her eye and scoots over, making room for him. Keith still can’t find the right button, so he gives up and moves so he’s sitting next to her. She huddles against his side, falling asleep again in seconds.

Keith leans back and wraps an arm around her shoulders, wincing slightly when the motion irritates his ribs. Outside, the falling snow is blown about by strong winds that toss it into the lights and back into the darkness. Keith watches it, listening to the quiet hum of the air vents and feeling Pidge breathing next to him. Exhaustion seeps through him, and his eyes drift shut.

* * *

 

“That is a _lot_ of snow.”

Keith is standing at the window, squinting at the blindingly white blanket of fluff that covers the compound halfway up to the windows. Pidge sits on the edge of the bed, and from what she can see, she estimates a good eighteen inches fell last night. The snow still falls, though the wind has died down.

“Try spending a winter in Minnesota,” Pidge remarks, inspecting the IV on her forearm. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Keith glance at her. She nods at the window. “That’s normal for us.”

Keith looks back at the snow. “This would give the people in Arizona heart attacks.”

Pidge can’t help smiling a little at that. It feels good to finally have something to sort-of joke about, and it feels even better to hear it come from Keith.

“This can’t be good for the Lions, though,” Keith says. He cranes his neck to see further out the window, and Pidge’s smile fades. He’s still far too pale, and the tired lines around his eyes have actually gotten worse. The bruise on his forehead has faded to a greenish hue, but he still stands stiffly, like it hurts to move too much.

She remembers how close he’d been to crying last night, how she’d watched him break a little bit when Jax was questioning her about him through the security camera. And his voice still has a slight edge to it, an small indication that the barrier he’s built up around all the stress and worry is frail and cracking. His fingers tap on the counter, and his shoulders slump when he can’t see much else outside. And suddenly there’s nothing more she wants to do than hold him close and tell him everything’s okay, and feel him actually _rest._

Except things _aren’t_ okay. They’re getting there, but there’s a long way to go before she knows they’ll really relax. Their Lions are still broken, the other Paladins are still missing, and she doesn’t trust the Deltans half as far as she could throw them. Jax had intended to hurt Keith, had meant to _break_ him, and the thought makes a hot anger burn over her skin.

But she’d said it herself: they need the Deltans’ help. So she pushes the thought away and pulls herself to her feet. The motion hurts surprisingly less than she thought it would, though it still makes her grimace.

“What are you—” Keith begins, but Pidge interrupts him.

“We need answers,” she says. “They haven’t talked to us in hours.” She forces herself to straighten. “So we need to find them.”

Keith opens his mouth to protest—after all, she _does_ still have an IV bag hooked to her arm—but two sharp raps sound against the closed door. They both jump, and Keith whirls around, facing the door. His hand clenches around the hilt of his dagger, but he doesn’t draw it.

“Never mind,” Pidge mutters. She nudges Keith’s arm. His hand falls away from his dagger, though it remains in a fist at his side.

“Enter,” Keith growls.

The door opens, and at first Pidge is somewhat relieved, because it appears to be just Raynia. But she’s followed by Jax, and Pidge can’t help glancing at her bayard on the counter and wishing it was within easy reach. She feels Keith stiffen and step closer to her.

“Paladins,” Jax says, and both he and Raynia give them a quick bow, their fists over their chests. Pidge nods back, but Keith remains rigid.

“Green Paladin, I regret to inform of you that we are unable to proceed with further repairs of the Green Lion,” Jax says as Raynia steps closer.

Pidge frowns, and forces her tone to remain civil. “What’s the matter?” Raynia gently takes her arm and starts to unhook the IV. It hurts a little, and Pidge flinches.

“Apologies,” Raynia murmurs through the translator, carefully applying an adhesive bandage to the small wound.

“We are not sure,” Jax says, still standing near the door with his hands clasped behind him. “The Lion’s forcefield activated after several hours of work, and we are unsure as to what caused it. It is thought that the absence of a Paladin—you—is causing the Lion to restrict of our access to its systems. I ask of you for any input you may have, or, if you are able, to come to the worksite and see.”

Pidge is still a little shaky on her feet, and she’s still tired and suddenly _hungry,_ but a trip out to the Lions sounds significantly more appealing than sitting around and just guessing at what’s wrong with Green. She nods. “Yeah. I’ll come take a look.”

“I’m coming, too,” Keith says. Pidge glances up at him, and _hoo boy, if looks could kill._ But she’s grateful for the unspoken threat in his voice. _Try to separate us again and see what happens._

“Of course,” Jax says, and there’s a hint of an apology sparkling in his stern gaze. “Unfortunately,  we have not the equipment to fully repair of the Red Lion’s power converter. This outpost is not fully completed. More equipment will be shipped to us at a later time, but not as soon as I presume you would like.”

Keith crosses his arms and tilts his head a little. Confusion softens the anger in his eyes a little bit, and his mouth opens partway to say something. But he glances sidelong at Pidge and is apparently content to put his queries on hold, for he replies with a brisk “Okay. We’re going to need something a lot warmer than what we’ve got. And something to eat.” He pauses, and his next word is a reluctant mutter. “Please.”

* * *

 

The snow reaches up to Pidge’s knees, and some of the drifts would probably drown her. Her borrowed boots are a little heavy, but the grey pants and coat she’s been loaned are snug and toasty. The wind has picked up again, buffeting them from all sides and blowing snow in their faces. She and Keith trudge along behind Jax on an already-stomped path through the woods. They’d had to leave the hovering speeder at the edge of the dense forest, about three miles from the compound and apparently a ten minute walk from the Lions. They pass another Deltan every few minutes, which makes Pidge’s heard pound faster and her hand tighten on her bayard. She glances back at Keith at one point, because the sounds of his and Jax’s footsteps blend together and for a split second she can’t hear Keith’s.

But he’s still behind her, walking hunched down into his borrowed coat, his hands jammed into his pockets and his hood yanked over his head. He offers her a small smile, which Pidge returns before facing forward again, squinting through the wind.

“What exactly is that compound back there?” Keith asks Jax. The wind yanks his words away the second they’re out of his mouth, and Pidge hears him almost solely through the earbud in her ear. Fortunately, Jax has a translator of his own—all the Deltans they’ve seen seemed to have one, actually. Pidge guesses they double as long-distance communicators.

“You are on the planet Ceti Alpha Nine,” Jax replies, half-turning to them as he walks. “The outpost is the most recent of ours.”

“But what’s it for?” Pidge asks.

Jax is silent for a moment. “You…do not know?”

“No,” Keith says bluntly.

Jax turns back to the path and is silent a few moments longer. “Understandable,” he finally says. “It has been ten thousand years; it is not likely a reawakened legend would remember of us.”

“Huh?” Pidge blurts out. “How do _you_ know so much about Voltron?”

“Deltans were once considered allies to Alteans, and assisted the Voltron team in its efforts by providing of a backup strike team whenever possible,” Jax says. “We are skilled of building and engineering, and would follow after destruction of peaceful cities and planets and help in relocation and rebuilding. We built of bases where needed, oftentimes light-years away from each other.

“Voltron passed into legend, but our efforts did not. We have been expanding of our territory, building of outposts on other planets when we are allowed, and moving of our strike force closer to Zarkon. This outpost is the newest, and the closest to the heart of the Empire.”

“Wait….are you saying you’ve been building bases within the Galra Empire?” Keith demands. “How are you able to do it without getting caught?”

“Oftentimes we are not. But sometimes the cloaking of our bases works long enough for us to build of a good base and get in a few decent hits.”

 _Before the base is destroyed._ Jax’s unspoken words send an unexpected wave of pity through Pidge.

“For ten thousand years the legend of the Lions has been passed down, and we have strived to live up to the legacy of Voltron,” Jax says.

Pidge looks back at Keith. His eyes are narrow, his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted into a frown. He catches Pidge’s eye and shakes his head. _“No way,”_ he mouths.

But there’s more than a grain of sense to the explanation—why else would they have taken care of Pidge, and believed her so readily when she’d vouched for Keith?

Conversely, why had they never even _heard_ of these supposed allies of Altea?

Pidge shrugs at Keith and turns back to the path. She has little time to mull over Jax’s words, however, because they round a bend and the glow of Green’s forcefield is suddenly visible through the trees.

Pidge can’t help the fond grin that spreads across her face when Green is in full view. Her Lion looks better than ever, its metal plating repaired and gleaming in the winter sun. Even more endearing is the way Green has moved closer to Red. It lies curled protectively around Keith’s damaged Lion, the green forcefield protecting them both.

“Oh, wow,” Keith says, coming up beside her, one eyebrow raised at their Lions.

“It moved like that some hours ago,” Jax explains. “We are unsure as to what action triggered it.”

“Hm.” Pidge steps past Jax towards Green, Keith following closely. The Deltans in the clearing step aside, pausing in their work to watch, and again her hand clenches around her bayard.

Green doesn’t move when she nears the Lions, nor does the forcefield disengage at the touch of her hand.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay,” Pidge says. “These people want to help us.”

Green shifts a little, but the forcefield remains intact.

“C’mon, buddy, don’t be scared. I’m right here. We’re okay, see? The Deltans are gonna help us.”

Green growls, but the forcefield flickers down. Pidge steps past Green’s paw, which hides her from the Deltans, and puts a hand on its snout. “There’s you go,” she murmurs. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Beside Green, Red emits a low, sickly sounding whine. Pidge looks over to where Keith stands with his hand on Red’s snout. Red’s eyes are barely lit, and it hasn’t moved at all.

Keith sighs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “We’ll get you fixed up soon.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away, his shoulders slumped.

“Is everything well, Paladins?” Jax asks through their earpieces. Keith shoots a scowl in his direction.

“I need to run some diagnostics on Green,” Pidge says, stepping out from behind the massive metal paw. Jax stands just beyond where the forcefield had reached. “But…it looks a lot better. Thank you.”

Jax bows his head at her. “It is out honor to assist the Paladins of Voltron.”

Pidge glances back at Keith, who merely shrugs at her. He has that skeptical frown again, though, and he remains by his Lion. Pidge opens her mouth to ask him for help with the diagnostics—partly to distract him from Red’s condition—but a loud, piercing alarm sounds through her translator, and she yelps instead.

Keith cringes, fumbling with the volume control. “What was _that_?” he asks, hurrying out to where he can see the others.

They turn to Jax, who’s speaking fast into his communicator. He pauses, listening to someone on the other end. His eyes widen and his hand tightens around the hilt of his blaster. Pidge tenses and takes a step backwards, bumping into Keith. The alarm has shut off after two high-pitched blasts, and now Jax’s voice sounds through their earpieces, his native language translated for them.

“This is an Alert Level Five,” he says, sounding surprisingly calm as he hails all the Deltans in the area. “This is not a drill. Proceed accordingly.” He snaps off the transmission and strides towards the Paladins.

“What does that mean?” Keith demands, edging himself in front of Pidge a little bit.

Jax’s eyes are narrow and his jaw is tight. “We are under attack.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Attention Deltan Base three-two-twenty-one.” Raynia’s voice sounds through Keith’s earpiece, loud and clear and authoritative. “Three Galra ships have been detected. Activating maximum security protocols—” A loud _boom_ sounds in the distance, and static thunders in his ear, cutting her off.

“Raynia?” Jax says.

Her voice filters back through the static. “They have fired,” she says, and the words send a chill through Keith. “But they missed. Base shields are…now active. Maintaining power to cloaking and shields.”

“Good. Begin of our defense protocols.”

“I have done so. Backup forces have received of our transmission, but they will not be here for an hour at minimum.”

Pidge grabs Keith’s arm, her eyes wide. “We’ve gotta do something.”

He nods quickly. She has a point; any reluctance Keith might feel towards helping the Deltans is drowned by the fact that there are Galrans in orbit and at least one Lion is damaged beyond function and just waiting to be snatched up.

“You must remain here,” Jax says to them. “Is it possible to cloak of your Lions?”

“Only Green,” Pidge says. “And we’re not staying here. We’re going to help.”

“You cannot—”

Keith’s already taken a few running steps towards his Lion, but he stops and faces Jax. “We can and we are. Deal with it.” He again runs towards his Lion, not waiting for an answer. For all he knows this is a ruse. Jax could easily _want_ the Lions captured. The Galra would pay a pretty penny for two Lions of Voltron, and their Paladins as well.

Keith climbs into Red’s cockpit. His Lion’s defenses are as weak as he thought. The forcefield will activate, but barely, and the blaster is charged up enough for one shot and one shot only.

“What’ve you got, Keith?” Pidge asks through his earpiece.

“One shot and half a forcefield,” he replies, hurrying out of his Lion. Red’s forcefield activates the second he’s out of the way.

“There is a minimal cloaking device we can utilize of for the Red Lion,” Jax says. “Finish setting it up quickly,” he instructs the other Deltans.

“What? Why wasn’t that done earlier?” Keith demands.  “Do you _want_ them to find the Lions? For all you guys know, the Galra traced the Lions here!”

“It _was_ set up,” Jax retorts, snapping open an equipment case. “The storm damaged of some of the equipment.”

Keith rolls his eyes. _Sure it did._

Green, with Pidge at the controls, hops up and steps away from Red. Keith can’t help but notice how all of the Deltans, Jax included, pause in their work and gaze with wide eyes at the enormous, shining Green Lion.

Another _boom_ , this time louder, echoes through the woods.

“Guys! They hit the base!” Pidge exclaims.

Jax snaps on his communicator. “Raynia!”

Silence.

Jax’s eyes grow wide. He stands stock-still, hand clenched around the equipment, waiting for a reply. “Raynia,” he says, his voice strained. “Report, please.”

Silence.

Jax swallows, and Keith realizes the Deltan is breathing faster and trembling ever so slightly. “Commander Jax to Deltan Base three-two twenty-one. Commander Raynia, report, please.”

But no sound comes from the base. Jax swallows, his eyes narrowing. His stern demeanor is back as quickly as it left, though Keith can’t help but notice how the Deltan stands more rigid than ever.

Suddenly his earpiece squawks, and he flinches. “This is Captain Zendan of the Galra Empire,” a growling voice says through the static. Keith’s stomach tightens, and he glances up at Pidge.

“Our sensors detect two Lions of Voltron on the planet’s surface,” Zendan continues. “And two Paladins! How very interesting. I wish to speak with the commanders of this base, to negotiate…a trade, if you will.”

Keith glares at Jax. “I _told_ you! What are you trying to pull?!”

Jax shakes his head once. “Please be silent.” He moves to a box of equipment and pulls out a handheld communicator, one that will likely cut through the static better. He begins speaking in his native language, but the earpieces they all wear translate it just fine.

“This is Commander Jax of Delta Base three-two twenty-one.”

A pause, then, “Ah, what a shame. Your co-commander must have been inside the part of the base we destroyed. _Such_ a pity.”

Jax clenches his jaw. “What is it you want?” he growls.

“As you can see, Commander Jax, we have you at a disadvantage. Half your base is destroyed, and we outnumber you at least three to one. If you want to see the rest of your crew survive, then you will surrender the Lions and their Paladins to us.”

“We will _not_ be surrendering of _anything_ or _anyone_!” Jax snaps off the communicator and throws it back in the box.

Red suddenly flickers out of view. “Cloaking of the Lion is complete, Commander,” one of the Deltans states.

“Good.” Jax stands tall, his blue eyes sharp with a seething anger. “They will not be able to attain of the coordinates of the Lion. They will have to send of troops to try and remove of the cloaking. We will remain here and defend of the Red Lion until our reinforcements arrive.”

Green crouches like it’s ready to pounce, its tail flicking back and forth. Keith grabs his bayard without thinking, but it still refuses to activate. He scowls, hitting it against his palm.

“Red Paladin,” Jax says. Keith glances up just in time to see Jax draw his blaster and toss it to him.

“Commander Jax!” a voice crackles through their earpieces. It’s not Raynia, however, and the voice is panicked and half-drowned by static.

“Go ahead,” Jax replies, one hand to his earpiece, the other tight in a fist at his side.

“Commander, the cloaking device has been reduced to fifty percent capacity. It will not cover of the whole base for more than a few minutes before flickering and revealing of our location before it restabilizes,” the Deltan says.

“I can fix that!” Pidge exclaims.

“You can?” Jax says.

“Yeah! I think it just needs to be recalibrated. I can patch Green’s cloaking device into the base’s systems as an emergency backup, and keep the base hidden long enough for the main system to reboot.”

 “Commander,” comes the staticky voice, “we estimate the cloaking to last of only twenty more minutes. And the shield system is losing of power quickly.”

“Stand by,” Jax replies. “The Green Paladin will arrive shortly.”

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Pidge says.

Keith tenses, pushing back the sudden worry. He doesn’t want her to go, doesn’t want to get separated again. But he refuses to say so. She has a job to do, and it’ more important than his own apprehension. He tells himself she’ll be fine; she’s in a Voltron Lion, for goodness’ sake.

“Be careful,” he says anyway.

“I will.” Green leaps into the air and shoots off towards the base.

Mere moments after Pidge leaves, a large, dark ship zips across the sky, flying way too low for anyone’s comfort.

“They are assessing of our defenses here,” Jax says, his voice hard. He pulls something from an equipment box and hands it to Keith. “Remove of that coat and put this on.”

Keith chucks the heavy parka into the box and unfolds the Kevlar-like vest Jax gives him. He puts it on under his red jacket, wishing for his Paladin suit. But it lies broken in Red’s cockpit, and would only impede him at this point.

“And then this,” Jax continues, snapping a metal cuff from his forearm. It looks a lot like the shield generator on the Paladin suits. Keith takes it and clips it on.

“What’ll you fight with?” he asks.

Jax doesn’t reply. He reaches for something on his back and draws a compact baton-shaped object, about two feet long. He flicks his wrist, and it expands into a metal staff as tall as he is. Blue electricity crackles audibly over a foot on each end.

The Galra ship passes over again, and hovers about a quarter-mile away before it lands just on the edge of the forest.

“ _Fall in!_ ” Jax barks, grabbing a spare blaster and holstering it.

Keith rolls his shoulders and takes a spot beside Jax at the front of the formation of maybe fifty Deltans. The trees are thick just in front of them, and they hide the approaching Galra soldiers well. Keith can hear them marching long before he sees them, their metal boots making a _swish-swish_ noise in the snow.

A shot fires over their heads. It hits Red’s forcefield with a sharp _buzz_ , and Keith winces. He glances back, but Red remains hidden under the cloaking device.

“Shields!” Jax orders. As one, the Deltans crouch to one knee and activate their shields, their blasters poking just beyond the transparent barriers. Keith follows suit, and Jax activates something on his staff. The tendrils of electricity snake towards each other, melding into a shield just like the others. He too draws his blaster and waits with glaring eyes for the Galra to appear.

“That was your warning!” comes a voice. Several Galra appear from behind the trees, led by one that stands easily taller than Jax, and is much bulkier.

 _What’s with all the Galra commanders having metal arms?_ Keith thinks upon seeing the Galran’s right arm, metallic silver and bare to the shoulder.

“I am Captain Zendan, and I am giving you one last chance to surrender the Lions and the Paladins,” the Galra says almost conversationally. He nods at Keith. “You have one Paladin right there. All you have to do, Commander Jax, is let him walk on over to us.”

Keith’s glares at Zendan. He feels small, like he’s merely a product being haggled over. An angry yell boils up in his throat, but he forces it back, knowing it would add nothing to all of this. He can hear the contempt in Zendan’s voice; a feisty comeback would do nothing to make Keith seem stronger.

“Absolutely _not_.” Jax growls.

“Come now, Commander,” Zendan says. “You are young; you have years of valiant fighting ahead of you. All you have to tell your commanding officers is that the Galra overpowered your forces. Which we will do anyway, if you refuse to agree to my terms. Your soldiers would back you up; after all, you’re putting their _lives_ on the line right now.”

“You dare to insult of the integrity of my troops?” Jax snarls. “As I have said, we will not be negotiating of _anything._ ”

It’s the ferocity in Jax’s voice, more than the words themselves, that starts to chip away at the loathing Keith has been holding for the Deltan soldier. Keith grips his blaster tighter, his finger brushing the trigger.

Zendan shrugs. “Then you will be slaughtered.” He raises his right arm, and more Galra troops emerge from the trees. A moment passes, then his hand clenches to a fist and drops to his side.

Pink blaster fire rains down on them, slamming into Keith’s shield. He’s knocked back a bit, and for a moment he has to use both hands to keep his shield steady. He growls through his teeth, forcing his arm to take the full weight, and edges his blaster around the side of his shield. He fires a shot, then another and another, and two of the approaching Galrans drop to the ground.

“Steady,” Jax says, his voice tight with anticipation. Keith glances to his right. The Deltans, while still firing, have shifted, and are poised as if ready to sprint at the Galra. Keith swallows and rises so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, waiting for the command he knows is coming.

_Hurry, Pidge. We need you._

“ _G_ _waem!!_ ” Jax roars. And as one, the Deltans and Keith spring to their feet and charge the Galra.

* * *

 

The base’s cloaking appears to be working for the moment. Green hovers above the base’s coordinates, the slightest flicker in the snow-covered ground the only indication that something is actually hidden there.

Pidge hails the base. “Green Paladin to Deltan base three-two… uh… oh for goodness sakes. Lower the shields, please!”

“Receiving of your transmission, Green Paladin. Stand by.” The voice on the other end is nearly drowned by static, but it still seems oddly familiar. The landscape below shimmers and bleeds into a view of the base. Pidge takes this as her cue and quickly pilots Green to land by the biggest of the buildings.

The far half of the base, the construction half, Pidge realizes, is charred to pieces. A corner of the building next to her has been torn off, the edges of the wreckage burned black and still smoking.

A Deltan hurries out of the half-destroyed building and waves Pidge over. Pidge grabs her laptop and rushes out of the cockpit. But she stumbles and flails to catch her balance, and hisses sharply through her teeth when pain stabs into her side.

 _Okay, not doing that again._ She grimaces and hurries as best she can the rest of the way.

“The defense systems are this way,” the Deltan says, his native language translated through Pidge’s earpiece. He shows her down the hall to a room that looks a lot like the way Mission Control used to look back on Earth. Banks of computers and desks stretch in rows across the room, and Deltans hurry to and fro between them.

“Green Paladin,” a voice to her left says, and it’s the same familiar voice from a few moments ago.

“Raynia!” Pidge exclaims. For it is Raynia, standing stiffly by a computer. Blood from a gash on her forehead has dried on her face, and she’s cradling her right arm protectively against her chest.

Pidge hurries over. “You’re hurt.”

“It is of no consequence right now,” Raynia says, though her clenched teeth and trembling posture say otherwise. “This computer controls of the cloaking device and the shields. Our…sh-shields went out for a brief moment, which is how the Galra were able to hit us.”

“Commander Raynia,” one of the Deltans says. He stands nearby, some kind of equipment in his hands. “Please, sit for just a moment.”

Raynia glances at him, then relents. She half-sits, half collapses into a chair next to Pidge, and the Deltan rushes to her side.

Pidge gropes around the back of the machine and finds the cables she’s looking for. She hooks her laptop up to the Deltans’ computer and tells it to translate the data into English.

“I’m gonna need some pretty long cables,” Pidge says while the data is poured into her laptop. “We gotta hook Green’s cloaking system up to your generators, so we can recalibrate the base’s main system.”

Raynia nods. “Get her what she needs,” she instructs one of the other nearby Deltans.

“It’s a universal plug-in,” Pidge adds. The Deltan nods and hurries off.

Pidge frowns at the bits of data the computer has translated so far. Something beeps, and she looks over at Raynia. The Deltan doctor tending to her has cleaned and bandaged the wound on her forehead, and he’s now running a tricorder along her right arm. It beeps again, and Pidge cranes her neck to see the screen. Raynia’s forearm is broken in two places, and Pidge winces. She looks at Raynia’s face; her eyes are falling shut, and her breathing is shallow and quick.

“I can mend of your arm here if you wish of it, Commander,” the doctor says.

Raynia opens her eyes and nods. The doctor carefully rolls her sleeve back, but Raynia flinches at the motion. He fits a sort of brace around her arm. It’s made of silver metal with wires and buttons on one end. He hooks the tricorder up to it, and Raynia’s free hand tightens around the arm of the chair. She’s shaking even worse now, and though her eyes are fixed on some random point on the floor, there’s a hint of fear peeking through the hardness of her gaze.

“Unfortunately, given of the circumstances, we cannot give to you anything for the pain,” the doctor says. Pidge feels second-hand apprehension creep through her veins. “The procedure will take less than five minutes,” he continues. Raynia nods once, but he doesn’t move.

“Commander, I need of a verbal confirmation.”

Raynia swallows. “Understood,” she says. “Proceed.”

The doctor puts a hand on Raynia’s shoulder, in what looks like a comforting gesture. He pushes a few buttons on the tricorder. Raynia sits rigid, her gaze almost burning a hole in the far wall.

Suddenly she flinches violently, and the doctor grabs her arm and holds it down. Raynia cries out, once, before clamping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes are shut tight, her cries muffled against her palm. The metal brace beeps, and Raynia flinches again, jerking against the hands holding her down.

“Breathe,” the doctor instructs her.

Raynia gulps and removes hand from her mouth. She ducks her head, cringing. Her fists and jaw are clenched tight, and she opens her eyes and glares at the floor. She sits rigid, breathing hard through her teeth.

But the brace beeps again, and the pain seems to shatter her resolve. Her eyes scrunch shut and her breath catches in an agonized gasp.

Pidge’s chest tight, her hands frozen over the keyboard. _Is that what they did to Keith??_ The data is forgotten; Pidge can’t stand to just sit there watching Raynia hurt like this. So she gets up and places a gentle hand over Raynia’s fist. She can feel her trembling, and this close she can see tears starting to slip past her eyelids. Pidge doesn’t say anything—she’s not sure if the young commander would appreciate her soothing words. But Raynia sucks in a shaky breath and this time doesn’t flinch as much when the brace beeps again.

A minute later the brace clicks and unlocks itself from Raynia’s arm. Her shoulders slump, and her gaze remains on the floor. The doctor removes it and scans her arm again.

“One hundred percent mending of the fractures,” he says.

“Thank you,” Raynia whispers through a shaky breath. “I am fine,” she adds when the doctor doesn’t leave. “Please tend to the others.”

The doctor salutes her with a fist over his chest, and hurries off. Raynia looks up at Pidge, confusion squinting in her blue eyes, but also a bit of gratitude. “How else can we assist of you with the cloaking and shields?”

Pidge quickly withdraws her hand and hurries back to her laptop. The data is translated, and her mouth twists into a frown. “We need to hook up Green’s system, then turn yours off entirely. And then we need to power it up one generator at a time. One of them is going out and corrupting the coding. But I can’t figure out which one it is.” Pidge highlights the appropriate data on her laptop, and the corresponding information on the Deltan’s computer lights up.

Raynia leans closer, studying the original data. She nods, and stands. A flash of a wince crosses her face as she moves, and her hand strays to her stomach for a split second. But before Pidge can even think to ask if she’s okay, she’s speaking into a communicator. Apparently she’d already sent a few Deltans out for a visual inspection of the shield generators, and she now asks about their status.

Her troops finish giving their report just as the Deltan from earlier rushes in with the cables to connect Green to the base.

“Green Paladin,” Raynia says, “they are reporting of damage to two of our generators. That is probably the reason for the power issue—the damaged generators are stuck in the ‘on’ position and likely taking of all the power. Our reserve power is nearly depleted. And the damaged generators will not enable us to perform of a reboot from here.”

The young commander offers a solution to Pidge, explaining the workings of the base’s shield systems. Her solution is a standard procedure that the uncompleted base didn’t have the resources for, not until Pidge showed up with Green. Pidge agrees, and Raynia speaks into her communicator, relaying instructions with a note of relief in her tone.

Pidge flicks on her own communicator. “Hey, Keith? This is going to take a bit longer than expected.”

* * *

 

Twenty-five minutes. That’s how long Pidge said it’d take to reset the base’s cloaking and shields. They have to hold off the Galra for twenty-five minutes before they get any help from Pidge and the Green Lion. Keith growls, part of him wishing he had a watch. He slams his shield into a Galra soldier’s face, and takes out two more with his blaster.

The Deltans have scattered a bit, spreading out through the trees to fight off the Galra. It’s effective in that they’re taking out a _lot_ of soldiers—the Deltans have deadly accuracy with their blasters. And Jax moves like a force of nature, taking out soldier after soldier in rapid succession, his staff a whirlwind of blue electricity.

But there were still a _lot_ of soldiers to begin with. Keith’s lost track of how many times he’s seen a Galra get within a hair’s breadth of destroying one of Red’s cloaking generators before getting shot.

Blaster fire slams into his shield, making it flicker, and he stumbles and almost falls. Keith yells, firing back, and three more Galra soldiers fall to the ground. Another shot zings past him, so close his hair moves on the back of his head. Keith whirls around, looking for the source.

A _crack_ and a _boom_ sound behind him, and Keith turns just in time to see smoke billowing up from one of the generators. The view of the trees and snow flickers and wavers.

Another _boom_ , a series of sparks, and the cloak disappears, revealing Red curled up helpless in the snow, its own forcefield quavering.

_Oh no._

A double _thwack_ behind him, and Keith tears his gaze from his Lion. Jax stands several yards away, near the bodies of two Galra. He too stares at Red for a moment, breathing fast through his teeth, his eyes narrowed in fury.

“Inform the engineers that they may begin retrieval of the Red Lion.” Zendan’s voice, all of a sudden to Jax’s left. The Galra captain steps out from behind a tree, accompanied by two more soldiers. Jax growls and assumes a defensive stance. Zendan smirks, and Keith is filled with a burning desire to punch that arrogant look right off his face.

“It would appear that I was correct, Commander Jax,” Zendan says.

A wild yell tears itself out of Jax’s throat, and he lunges at Zendan. Keith charges the captain, but is intercepted by the two soldiers. Blaster fire slams into his shield, and at this range it almost knocks him flat on his back. Keith braces the shield with both arms, each blast pounding through his left arm and making his back hurt.

The shield starts to flicker with each hit, and Keith knows he has to do something _now._ He grits his teeth and forces his left hand to bear the shield on its own. Another blast hits it, and his arm shakes and he stumbles. Keith aims his blaster at the Galrans, but after two shots, he’s only hit one, and his left arm is weak about to give out. Before Keith can fire again, another blast hits his shield. It flickers and sputters before finally shorting out and disappearing, leaving him totally exposed. Keith yelps and, without even thinking, uses his blaster to deflect the next shot. His gun practically explodes in his hand. Keith flings the mass of burning, molten metal into a snowdrift before it burns through his gloves.

The Galra soldier fires again, and Keith dives for his feet. He gets a face full of snow for his efforts, but succeeds in grasping the soldier’s calves and knocking him to the ground. Keith scrambles out of the way of the blaster and manages to punch the soldier square in the face. The soldier backhands him with his forearm, knocking Keith back into the snow. Keith gasps, blinking at the trees, his wind knocked out of him. He hears the whine of the blaster powering up, and he rolls out of the way, a shot melting the snow just behind him. Keith kicks at the soldier’s legs, and lunges to his feet just as the soldier stumbles. He lands another punch to the soldier’s face, and the soldier finally falls to the ground, unconscious.

He lands on his blaster, though. And there’s several more Galra soldiers just visible between the trees. Keith realizes he has no time to try to heft the armored soldier off the weapon. So he dashes to the trees, stumbling through the snow and desperately hoping the other soldiers don’t see him. He leans against the trunk of a tree, his chest heaving and his head pounding.

Jax yells, his voice both on the other side of the tree and right in Keith’s earpiece. Keith jumps, almost falling into the snow. He peers around the tree, and dread twists in his stomach.

Zendan has the Deltan warrior by the throat, his metal arm almost lifting him off the ground. Jax’s staff lies useless in the snow, and Keith clenches his fists when he remembers Jax lost his blaster almost immediately after the Deltans charged. Jax growls through his teeth, slamming his fists against the metal arm. But Zendan’s grip only grows tighter, and Jax chokes and pries desperately at the fingers around his throat.

“Consider yourself a prisoner of the Galra Empire,” Zendan says. “I think you will be of great use to us. You know more about the Deltan bases than the other soldiers we’ve captured. Am I right?”

“ _I…will…tell you…nothing!”_ Jax snarls.

“So you say,” Zendan replies. Pink electricity shoots across his metal hand, and Jax’s agonized cry gets strangled in his throat.

Keith glances around frantically for a weapon, but finds nothing save the dagger on his back. His bayard bumps his hip in his pocket, and he draws it. It still refuses to activate, no matter how many times Keith hits the reset button. Zendan shows no sign of letting Jax go, and the Deltan’s eyes are falling shut and his strikes are growing weaker. Keith bites back a growl and hits the bayard against a tree.

It activates, to his complete surprise, the sword gleaming in his hand. Keith lunges out from behind the tree with a yell, snow flying up behind his boots. He brings his sword down as hard as he can on Zendan’s arm. It’s enough to make the Galra captain stumble, and he lets go of Jax. The Deltan collapses in the snow, gasping.

“Well! I came here for a Deltan, but it would appear that I will be bringing home a Lion _and_ a Paladin as well,” Zendan says. He strikes at Keith with his metal hand, and Keith blocks it. But just as suddenly as it activated, his bayard fizzles out, leaving him with just the hilt once more. Keith yanks his dagger from its sheath and assumes a defensive stance in front of Jax. Zendan raises his hand to strike, and Keith gets ready to duck.

Blue electricity snaps across Zendan’s chest. The Galra freezes, yelling, and Keith whirls around to find that Jax has managed to grab his staff and thrust it against Zendan’s chest. Jax’s arms are shaking and he’s breathing hard through his teeth, but he grips the staff tight and hits a button that sends all the electricity out one end. Zendan roars once, and grasps the staff, trying to push it away. But he grabs it with his metal arm, amplifying the electricity. He falls forward, collapsing into the snow.

Jax drops his staff, choking and wheezing. Keith glances behind him just in time to see at least ten more Galra soldiers spy him and Jax and start to run towards them.

But Red is moving, suddenly, its eyes lighting up. It crouches, ready to pounce, but instead of jumping it opens its mouth. The blaster starts to glow, pointing almost right at them, Keith’s eyes grow wide, and everything inside him screams _RUN._

“Come on!” Keith yells, grabbing Jax by the back of his jacket and hauling him to his feet. They stagger further into the woods, just Red fires its one shot. The explosion knocks Keith and Jax to the ground. Keith buries his head under his arms, protecting himself from the branches and snow raining down on them.

A moment passes, and Keith peers up and behind him. Tree trunks smolder, the melted snow drips into the seared ground, and nothing remains of the approaching Galra soldiers.

But Red collapses, and its forcefield flickers and dies. A pink tractor beam appears a second later, and Keith watches, his heart pounding in his throat, as Red is slowly lifted off the ground.

“No!” Keith gulps and pushes himself to his knees. But there’s nothing he can do. Near Red, more Galra soldiers step out from the trees, and Keith scrambles to the other side of Jax to hide behind a log.

Jax starts to push himself to his feet, wiping snow from his face with a shaking hand.

 _“_ Stay down!” Keith hisses, sitting on his knees behind the log and looking out at Red.

Jax obliges, collapsing with his back slumped against the log. He cringes and yanks his fried communicator from his ear. His chest heaves and his face is twisted in a grimace, but he slowly moves so he can look out at Red. The Red Lion is almost in the ship’s belly at this point, and Jax freezes when he sees it. The bay doors close, and Red is swallowed up by the Galra.

Keith can only stare at the ship, disbelief roaring in his mind. This can’t be happening, not after everything that’s happened, not after he’s gotten so _close_ to being able to go home—

“I am truly sorry, Red Paladin,” Jax rasps. He coughs, wincing.

Keith shakes his head, his hands tightening into fists. The remaining Galra have overpowered the few Deltans left. Jax’s soldiers stand in a row, their hands above their heads, waiting to be marched into another Galra ship.

“Keith? You there?” Pidge’s voice crackles in his ear. But the hope it would have brought a few minutes earlier is completely gone.

“Yeah. You okay?”

“I’m fine. We’re done over here, just hang on a few more minutes and I’ll be over there in a sec—”

“No. Pidge, I need you to stay there.” Keith swallows and glances at Jax. The Deltan’s hand is tight around his staff, and he looks like he’s planning on conducting a one-man charge to save his troops. But he coughs again, and his breath is still wheezing, and Keith dearly hopes he doesn’t.

“They…they have Red,” Keith continues. “It’s not safe here. Stay there, where you’re hidden. Where you’re safe.”

“And how are you going to get out of there?” Pidge demands.

“I…we’ll find away. Just _stay there_.” Keith shakes his head at Jax, who nods once, his shoulders slumping in resignation. Even if Jax wasn’t hurt, even if Keith had _two_ functioning bayards, there’s no way the two of them could overpower the Galra. There’s no way to rescue Jax’s men, and there’s certainly no way to retrieve the Red Lion.

The fight is over, and they’ve lost.

“Keith, no, you can’t—”

A new voice sounds over the comms, cutting her off. It’s a singing, cheerful call that’s completely out of place and makes Keith jolt up in surprise and disbelief.

“Like a good neighbor, Voltron is there!”

“ _Lance??”_


	7. Chapter 7

“What was that?” Raynia demands. She’s sat down again, and the pained lines on her face have only gotten more defined in the past few minutes. But Pidge can’t think about that right now, because her eyes are sharp with a demanding curiosity, and the very person causing it is laughing in Pidge’s ear.

“Lance! Is that you?”

“Heyo, Pidge! What’s shakin’?”

“ _Stop being a dork and get down here!”_

They’ve lost contact with Keith because of Lance’s butting in, and the worry in Keith’s tone had sent a painful concern wrenching through Pidge’s stomach, adding to the pain already there.

“Calm yourself, I’m on my way. I’ve got your coordinates—”

“No! Go help Keith! He’s where the Red Lion just was—you gotta help him, Lance, I don’t…I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s in trouble.”

“When is he _not_? Oh! I see him. Hoo boy, that’s a lot of Galra… Pidge, Shiro and I found Hunk, and we’re all together with Allura and Coran. The castleship is kinda messed up, but I think we can take on these guys. And our Lions are mostly okay. How’s Green? Can you help us?”

“Yeah. I’m coming over there right now. Oh! The Deltans—ah, they look kinda like space elves—”

“I see ‘em. What’s their deal?”

“Long story. But they’re on our side!”

“Copy that.”

Pidge snaps off her comms and turns to Raynia.

“The entire Voltron force is here?” Raynia asks, her eyes wide and her voice no louder than a whisper.

“Yep. Come on, you’re coming too. Our castle ship has healing pods, and you need to get in one ten minutes ago.”

* * *

 

A loud _thud_ shakes the ground and sends snow flying everywhere. Keith and Jax stumble out of the woods just in time to see Blue crouch, its blasters aimed at the Galra soldiers.

“Stand down,” Lance’s voice echoes out of Blue’s speakers, and never in Keith’s life has he been more glad to hear that sound.

“You do not think you can fire at us without hitting the Deltans!” one of the Galra has the nerve to yell back.

“Oh, I dunno. I’ve got pretty good aim,” Lance replies, almost nonchalantly. “How ‘bout I don’t prove it and you guys just drop your weapons instead.”

The Galra soldiers glare at him, assuming a defensive stance. Blue growls and its blasters start to glow.

One of the Deltans smacks the blaster out of a Galra soldier’s hands, catching it before it hits the ground. “Surrender!” he barks, aiming the blaster at the Galra’s face. The Galra soldiers hesitate a moment longer, and Blue’s blasters begin to whine.

But the soldiers relent and hurl their weapons into the snow. The Deltans snatch them up, rounding up the Galra soldiers the same way they’d been just moments earlier.

Blue steps back and drops it head on the ground between its paws. Its jaw opens, and Lance steps out.

“Lance!” Keith exclaims, running towards him, almost tripping in the snow.

“Keith—oof!” Lance staggers as Keith nearly tackles him in a huge hug.

“You feelin’ all right??” Lance jokes, returning the hug. He pulls back, and the smile falls from his face faster than a plate smashing to the floor. “Oh, buddy,” he says, his brows tight with concern. “Are you okay?”

Keith clears his throat. “Yeah. I-I’m all right.”

Lance’s frown deepens. “No, you’re not. You look—Hey!” Lance grabs his blaster and points it at something behind Keith.

Keith turns to see Jax poised, his staff snapping electricity. But he’s not looking at Lance; Zendan has gotten up and is striding towards them. He stops a good distance away, surveying the scene.

“I suppose you’re here to try and reclaim the Red Lion,” he sneers.

“Well, we didn’t come all the way out here to pick blueberries,” Lance retorts, but there’s a sharp steel in his blue eyes that belies the humor. Jax raises a confused eyebrow at the Blue Paladin.

“Get over with the others,” Lance continues to Zendan, motioning with the blaster.

“The ship has already left,” Zendan says, stepping next to his soldiers. “You’ve already lost.”

“Oh really?” Lance laughs. “Hey Hunk!” he says in to his comm link. “How’s it going up there?”

Lance pauses to listen, and Keith steps closer, craning his neck to hear the comms in Lance’s helmet. A relieved smile spreads across his face when he hears Hunk’s voice.

“We’re extracting the Red Lion now—woah! Shiro! Catch it, please!”

“Got it!” comes Shiro’s voice, and Keith’s heart leaps. Lance grins at him and turns back to Zendan.

“See? We’ve got our Lion. And we’ve _also_ got a castle ship up there with enough weaponry to kick the other ships into next week.” He pretends to casually inspect his fingernails, even though he’s wearing gloves. “So… I suggest you sound the retreat.”

“Too late for that. The other ships are gone,” Pidge breaks in, and the smile falls from Keith’s face. _What’s she doing up there??_

Lance cocks an eyebrow at Zendan and lowers his blaster. “I’ll let these guys finish up here.” The Deltans step closer to the Galrans, and Keith’s immensely grateful he’s not on the receiving end of their glares.

Jax steps nearer and salutes Lance. “Backup Deltan forces are arriving,” he says, nodding towards a small ship that lands just on the edge of the clearing. His voice is so hoarse it almost doesn’t make it past his throat, and he’s swaying on his feet.

“Right,” Lance says, holstering his blaster. “Both of you, get inside Blue. Now.” His eyes are hard and unflinching, but there’s a stark amount of worry in his gaze when he looks at Keith.

“Why is Pidge up there fighting?” Keith asks.

Lance catches his arm and gently turns him towards Blue. “Because she’s a Paladin and she can. Come on, buddy.”

Keith stumbles in the snow and would have fallen if Lance hadn’t caught him. “She’s hurt,” he says.

“What?” Lance’s eyes are wide as he helps Keith climb the ramp into Blue’s cockpit. “Pidge! Are you okay?”

“Uh…Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Pidge’s voice is just barely audible through Lance’s helmet, but it’s tight with forced calmness. Keith collapses in the back of Blue’s cockpit, his eyes fixed on Lance.

“Keith says you’re hurt,” Lance says. “You need to get to the castle—”

“Keith’s with you? Is he okay?”

Lance pauses a moment on his way to the pilot’s chair. “He’s okay. Please get to the ship, Pidge, we’ve been crazy worried about you two.” He glances at Jax. “You. Sit down.”

Jax obeys, sitting across the cockpit from Keith. His hands are tight around his collapsed staff, and he flicks quick, nervous glances around the small space.

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Pidge says.

* * *

 

Keith finds himself waking up when Blue lands, which is odd because he doesn’t remember falling asleep. Lance is pulling him to his feet, and Keith can sort of make out a “come on, Keith, don’t make me carry you.”

“I can walk,” Keith says, though he stumbles against Lance when he finally stands. Nearby, Jax is working his way down the ramp, escorted by Shiro.

Allura and Coran are there, too, and a nervous Hunk who slings Keith’s arm around his shoulders and helps him walk to the infirmary. Keith blinks slowly, massaging his forehead, trying to get rid of a small, nagging headache. He glances across the hangar bay to see Red lying next to Black and Green, its metal plating blackened and burned. Black sits almost protectively by Red, while Green has again curled up around his damage Lion. Keith gulps and quickly looks away. He remembers that each and every scratch and dent on Red is his fault. He needs to apologize, but everyone’s hurrying, and he can barely keep standing.

They enter the infirmary, and Jax freezes. “Raynia,” he whispers, his eyes wide. Keith glances at the healing pods; Pidge and Raynia are already in stasis.

“Is she all right?” Jax asks, glancing between the Paladins.

“She will be well in a little while,” Allura says.

Keith stands still, leaning against Hunk and looking at Pidge through the glass. She looks impossibly small and frail, and Keith recalls with a pang how badly she’d been hurting, and how a lot of the mess they’d been in was also his fault.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith says, gritting his teeth and trying to bear his own weight. But he sways on his feet, and Hunk catches him again. “Shiro, I-I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me when you’re healed up,” Shiro says, stepping over and helping Keith out of his jacket.

“No, Shiro, I…Red’s all broken…and Pidge…she’s…”

“It’s okay, Keith.” Shiro has him by the arm and is guiding him over to a healing pod.

“I messed up, Shiro.” Keith moves like a child being guided to bed, his legs weighing a hundred pounds each and his thoughts bleary and confused. He steps into the healing pod and looks up at Shiro. There’s something he needs to say; the words are right on the tip of his tongue….

But Shiro is shushing him, and his eyes are kind and reassuring. Keith swallows. The glass slides up in front of him and some kind of chemical makes him fall asleep within seconds.

* * *

 

The glass slides open, and Keith blinks out into the infirmary. The others are still there, and they all snap their attention to him as he stumbles out of the pod.

“What in the _world_?” Allura exclaims. They all rush towards Keith, but Shiro gets there first, catching him before he falls.

“He was only in there _ten minutes_!” Lance exclaims.

“Allura, what is going on?” Shiro demands. Keith rubs his eye, leaning heavily against Shiro while Coran points a tricorder at him.

“I don’t know… There must be a glitch with the pods. Hunk, help me look at this thing,” Allura says, bringing up the pod’s data.

“He’s fully healed,” Coran announces, but he frowns at Keith. “You don’t look it, though.”

“Can I sit down, please?” Keith croaks out. Shiro guides him over to the other side of the room. They sit near the base of the other pods, and Lance rummages around in a supply drawer behind them.

“Are you feeling okay?” Shiro asks.

Keith draws his knees up to his chest. “I think so. I’m just really tired.”

Lance returns, draping a blanket around Keith’s shoulders.

“We’ll get you back in the pod in just a bit,” Shiro says, putting a gentle hand on his back.

Keith looks up at Hunk, Allura, and Coran inspecting the pod he’d just exited, and at Jax, Raynia, and Pidge sleeping peacefully in theirs. A painful lump forms in Keith’s throat when he looks at them, and he quickly flicks his gaze away.

“Dude, what _happened_ down there, on the planet?” Lance asks, sitting near them.

Keith’s fists tighten around the folds of the blanket and he squints hard at the floor. “Um.” He clears his throat, and even though he can hear how tight and shaky his voice is, he forces himself to tell them _everything._ How he’d fought Zarkon alone and practically destroyed the Red Lion—Shiro’s wide eyes confirm Keith’s suspicion that he didn’t know about that.

He tells them how he’d crashed on the planet and woken up to bitter cold. How he’d found Pidge, how sick she’d gotten, and how he hadn’t been able to do anything. How the Deltans had shown up, taken him and Pidge captive, and lied to Keith. How the Deltans had believed Pidge, and how they’d helped her get better.

“They tried to fix the Lions, but they didn’t have the right equipment,” Keith says. “And then the Galra showed up, and then you guys showed up not long after.” Keith swallows and rubs his eyes. “I messed up, Shiro, I’m really sorry—”

“How did you mess up?” Shiro asks gently. “From what I hear, you did an outstanding job. You took care of Pidge as best you could, you finished fixing the comms and set up a distress beacon—which was how we found you guys—and you didn’t lose your cool and fight Jax. You stood by the one who had hurt you and worked together with him.”

“You performed admirably as a Paladin, Keith,” Allura says.

“And even better as a friend,” Hunk adds. “Pidge told us how you took care of her.”

Keith shrinks further into the blanket, their words only making him feel a little bit better.

“The healing pod is indeed damaged,” Coran says. “It didn’t allow enough time for you to rest, which is essential in the healing process. I’m afraid the others are damaged in the same way.”

“Okay,” Keith says, not really knowing what else to say.

“The climate controls to everyone’s quarters are broken. It’s really cold on that deck,” Shiro says. “But you can sleep in the lounge if you want.”

Keith nods and pushes himself to his feet. Shiro takes the blanket from him, grabs a pillow from the supply drawer, and escorts him to the lounge. Despite being reassured by the others, the ache in Keith’s throat has only gotten worse, and he’s blinking fast when they arrive in the lounge. Shiro sets the pillow down on the couch, spreads out the blanket, and turns to Keith.

“You okay, buddy?” he asks.

Keith nods quickly, but can’t keep his breath from hitching. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling.

Shiro steps forward and pulls him close. Keith presses his forehead to Shiro’s shoulder, clinging to him, trembling and crying.

“It’s okay,” Shiro murmurs, gently rubbing his back. “It’s over now.”

Knowing that doesn’t really help, because all the fear and worry and helplessness has been waiting a full week to get out, and Keith can’t stop the tears no matter how hard he tries. But Shiro doesn’t let go of him, and lets him cry it out.

Long minutes pass, and Keith is finally able to take a breath without it shaking. He steps back and wipes his eyes and swallows.

“What you did out there, taking care of Pidge and helping the Deltans…You did a good job,” Shiro says. “I am very proud of you. We all are. And, Keith, it’s all over now. All right?”

Keith takes a deep breath. “All right,” he whispers. He lies down on the couch, and Shiro drapes the blanket over him. The pillow smells like the ship, clean and familiar, and the whoosh of the air vents above him are a welcome, soothing sound. Sleep washes over him, and he sinks into the soft cushions and pillow, and his eyes drift shut.

* * *

 

Pidge’s eyes blink open a second before the glass in front of her slides up and lets her step out of the healing pod. Her legs are still shaky, and she now knows _exactly_ how Lance had felt after that fight with Sendak.

“Hello, Pidge.” Allura is standing in front of her, a steadying hand on her arm. She smiles at Pidge, and guides her to sit down in a chair by the other pods. Pidge yawns and rubs her eye, stepping out of her pod. Jax and Raynia remain in stasis, although Jax’s healing pod is about to let him out in less than a minute.

“Good to see you looking better,” Coran says, smiling over at her. Both he and Allura speak in hushed tones, as though they were the only ones up late at night, and the effect is undeniably soothing.

“I just need to check your vitals,” Allura says. “Should only take a few ticks.” Pidge nods, sitting up a little straighter when Allura shines a light in her eyes, checking her pupils.

Jax’s healing pod hisses open, and he stumbles out, gripping the edge of the pod.

“Coran,” Allura says, nodding at Jax. Coran hurries over to him. The Deltan half-sits, half-collapses into a nearby chair. Coran is talking to him, but he’s speaking in the Deltan’s native language. He too shines a flashlight in the Deltan’s eyes.

“How’s Keith?” Pidge asks Allura.

Allura puts a skin-contact thermometer on Pidge’s forehead. “He’s doing well. He did not have any severe injuries, he just needed to rest. He’s been sound asleep in the lounge for the past eight hours.”

“Good,” Pidge says, and yawns again.

The thermometer beeps, and Allura removes it, nodding in approval at the reading. She hands Pidge a juice packet. “You feeling all right?” she asks.

Pidge nods. “Just tired, is all. I’ll be okay.”

Allura nods. “I thought so. The healing pods are malfunctioning a little bit. They healed your injuries, but you’re going to need to rest for longer.” She smiles and puts a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “You and Keith performed admirably out there. We’re all very proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Pidge replies.

Raynia’s healing pod beeps, and the glass opens. Allura hurries to her side, catching her before she falls. Jax tenses, looking like he’s about to stand and hurry over to her, but Coran keeps him seated. Pidge grabs a translator from the counter and sticks the earpiece in her ear.

“Just need to finish checking your vitals,” Coran says. Pidge frowns. He’s checking Jax’s pupils…again. She glances over to Allura, who’s speaking so quietly to Raynia that Pidge can’t hear a word she’s saying, not even with the volume on the translator turned all the way up.

A good ten minutes passes, with Coran successfully keeping Jax from getting up. Jax had politely refused the offered juice packet, and he’d nodded once, respectfully, at Pidge when he saw her. Jax sits quietly, watching Allura and Raynia, but immediately turning his attention to Coran whenever the other Altean speaks.

Allura leads Raynia over to the display monitors, where she’d been monitoring data from the healing pods. Pidge still can’t hear what she’s saying, but Raynia’s eyes are narrow with confusion.

“Your throat looks like it’s healed properly,” Coran says, and Pidge glances at him and Jax. “You’ll probably be hoarse for a few days, but that’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you,” Jax whispers.

A small, sharp gasp sounds from where Raynia and Allura are, and Pidge jumps. She looks over to them; Raynia’s eyes are wide, her hand covering her mouth. Allura has a hand on her arm, and she’s murmuring softly. Whatever she’s saying ends in a question, and Raynia swallows and shakes her head.

“Raynia?” Jax asks, pushing himself to his feet. Pidge gets up as well, and follows at a distance.

“What is it?” Jax asks, stepping close to Raynia’s side. Raynia nods at the screen and wipes her eyes.

“What are you looking at…Oh.” Jax goes still, his eyes widening. Pidge squints at the screen, but Allura has changed the display’s language to Deltan.

“What are they looking at?” Pidge whispers to Allura.

Allura remains silent, but picks up a tablet and shows Pidge and Coran a copy of the display. It’s Raynia’s biodata, telling them her age, height, weight, and…

“She’s _pregnant_?” Pidge whispers.

Allura nods, her expression grave. “She didn’t know,” she says softly.

Pidge looks at Jax and Raynia, and raises an eyebrow. Raynia is crying now, and Jax has moved closer, his hand gentle on the small of her back.

“It’s all right,” Jax murmurs. “We’ll figure it out.” He smiles warmly at her. “And here we thought you were actually getting sick, these past few days. This is much better news.”

Raynia gulps, and Jax gently tilts her head up towards him and dabs a tear off her face. “We’ll work it out,” he says. “It will be all right.”

“Are you feeling all right, Raynia?” Allura asks.

Raynia swallows and nods. Jax turns to the others, clearing his throat. “This…bears some explanation,” he begins slowly. He doesn’t look at anyone, but Pidge can’t help noticing how Raynia reaches for his hand, and how their fingers lace together. “Raynia and I are married,” he continues. “It is not exactly forbidden for us, but neither did we want the Deltan Council to know about it.”

“How come?” Pidge asks.

“One of the requirements for signing on as a commander of a base is to be single,” Jax says. “This way, if a commander dies, they are not leaving behind a family behind for the government to take care of.”

“But what about your parents?” Pidge demands. “They’re your family, aren’t they? Don’t you guys have siblings, or cousins, or—”

“Yes,” Jax says. “There is no way to effectively eliminate the grief caused by the loss of our bases and commanders. Every Deltan mourns, regardless of whether or not they knew them. This rule was to reduce the amount of dependency on our government for aid.” He shrugs. “The rule said nothing about marrying one’s co-commander, though.”

“They’re probably going to add that rule, after this,” Raynia mutters.

“That would not affect us,” Jax says, turning back to her.

“Our ages will,” Raynia says. There’s a stark flash of worry glinting in her blue eyes.

Jax is silent a moment. “We will deal with that if, and only if, it is addressed,” he says firmly.

“You know they’ll take an issue with it,” Raynia says.

“It is not our concern right now, Raynia. What matters now is that you are alive and well, and that the child is as well.”

Allura clears her throat. “There is one other thing I wanted to show you,” she says. She steps over to the display and magnifies some data. A blurry picture of some kind of blob appears.

“She’s obviously just barely beginning to grow,” Allura explains. “But that’s what she looks like right now.”

“It’s a girl?” Raynia squeaks. “Your technology can see that _already_?”

“It’s reading the genetic code,” Allura explains.

“She has your nose, Raynia,” Jax says, squinting at the display. Raynia shoots him an exasperated look, but the sharp, worried lines on her face have softened.

“You both still need to rest,” Allura says. “Coran will take you to get something to eat, and show you where you can sleep for a while.”

The Deltans turn to Allura and salute her, bowing with their right fists over their chests. “Thank you, your highness,” Jax says.

Coran leads them out, and Pidge and Allura watch them go. Pidge smiles a little when she sees Raynia step closer to Jax, and Jax take her hand once more.

“If I remember Deltan society correctly, they have a rough road ahead of them,” Allura says softly.

Pidge glances up at her. “Why’s that?”

“Younglings are extremely important to Deltans,” Allura explains, sitting down and motioning for Pidge to sit, too. “More important than the war with Zarkon. Ten thousand years ago, there was an age restriction on who could bear children. Deltans typically live to be about one hundred eighty years old, so the age restriction was thirty. I don’t know if they’ve changed it, but Raynia’s comment makes me think they’re still under the limit. Jax is twenty-five, and Raynia is only twenty-two.”

“If they’re so young, how come they’re allowed to command a base in the middle of a war?” Pidge demands.

“I am not sure. Frankly, I was surprised when I saw their ages,” Allura says. “It would seem that the Deltans are getting desperate in the war, sending out younger and younger commanders, trying everything they can. And like I said, younglings take priority over the war. They might allow younger commanders, but not younger parents.”

“So…what’s gonna happen to Jax and Raynia?” Pidge asks.

Allura sighs. “It depends on how far under the age limit they are. But it’s very likely that their government will take their child from them when she’s born.”

“What?” Pidge’s fist crunches her empty juice packet. “Do they get to have her back when they get old enough?”

“It varies case by case,” Allura says. “Their case does not look good, though. They kept their marriage a secret, their base got destroyed, and they hurt one of the Paladins of Voltron and almost lost the Red Lion.”

“But they _didn’t_ lose the Red Lion.” Pidge chucks the juice packet in the trash. “I was _there_ , Allura. They’re good people. They’re a little harsh, but they tried their best. That whole thing with Keith, that was…” Pidge pauses and swallows. “That was a misunderstanding.”

“I do not doubt it,” Allura says. “But the fact remains that the situation almost did not end well.”

Pidge scowls at her feet. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it is not,” Allura murmurs.

“Can’t we do something?”

Allura frowns at the far wall, thinking. “A written statement might help…”

Pidge sits up eagerly. “You mean, like, if we wrote ‘they didn’t mean to hurt us,’ and signed it?”

Allura nods. “Coran and I will help you write it. The statement must be true, and as Jax _did_ mean to hurt Keith, even though it was a mistake, that will factor into this situation. But,” she says, smiling and getting to her feet, “Coran and I have helped to draft a lot of ambassadorial documents. This should be a snap.”

* * *

 

Pidge runs through the halls, clutching a tablet. She and the Alteans had spent a good half hour working on the statement, and it now held Allura, Coran’s, and her signatures. But Jax and Raynia wanted to leave in the next hour, and the document still lacked what was easily the most important signature: Keith’s.

It turned out to be almost midnight when Pidge had gotten out of the healing pod, and so everyone else was already in bed. Pidge pokes her head into the lounge to find Keith sprawled on the couch, a blanket half hanging off him as he lies on his back. His breaths are soft and light, and he looks to be sleeping peacefully, without a nightmare disturbing his slumber.

Pidge sighs, disliking having to wake him up from the sleep he desperately needs. She gently brushes his bangs from his forehead, but he doesn’t stir.

“Keith,” she whispers, running a gentle hand through his hair. Keith stirs and blinks, and looks at her. A small smile drifts across his face.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Pidge replies.

“How are you feeling?”

“A lot better.”

“Good,” Keith says. He sits up and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, and Pidge sits down next to him.

“Keith, there’s something you need to know. It’s about Jax and Raynia.” Pidge pulls up the document and explains the situation.

“You’re kidding,” Keith says when she’s done.

“No.” Pidge falls silent, watching him. He reaches out for the tablet, and she hands it to him. He reads the document, and takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“You don’t have to sign it,” Pidge says after a minute. “Allura and Coran’s and my signatures should be fine. Altean royalty and the Green Paladin backing them up should cover it.”

Keith remains silent, but his brows knit together. He stares at the document for another long minute.

“Keith? I need to get them this before they go. Really, it’s fine, you don’t have to sign—”

Keith swipes down to the signature portion and signs his name with a flourish. He looks up at Pidge.

“Technically, they saved your life,” he says. “And technically, everything in this document is true.” He takes another deep breath. “Holding a grudge against Jax isn’t really going to help anything.”

Pidge surges forward and hugs him. “That’s really mature of you,” she says, and Keith huffs a laugh and hugs her back.

“When are they leaving?” Keith asks.

Pidge yelps and pulls back. “Right now!” She scrambles to her feet and hurries towards the door.

“Wait for me!” Keith calls, surprising her. He grabs his jacket from the back of the couch and puts it on while rushing for the door.

* * *

 

They run into the Deltans just before they reach the main entrance. Jax and Raynia turn abruptly when they hear them, and immediately straighten and salute Pidge and Keith.

“We thank you for your hospitality,” Jax says. “If there is anything more we can do for you, do not hesitate to ask it of us.”

“Actually, there’s something we want to give you,” Pidge says. She hands Jax the tablet, and he frowns at it. Raynia steps closer, looking over his arm at it.

“It’s a declaration,” Pidge says. “It says that we forgive you for what happened, and that we’re vouching for you when you have to go before the Council.”

Jax had been translating Pidge’s explanation quietly to Raynia, but he breaks off at Pidge’s last words, his eyes wide.

“You would do that for us?” He looks at Keith. “You signed of this?”

Keith swallows. “Yeah…Yeah, I signed it.”

Jax stares at him for a long moment. Raynia glances between Jax and Keith, her brows knit. “Jax?” she asks softly.

Jax translates the rest of the conversation, and Raynia’s hand flies to her mouth. “ _Hannon le,_ ” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears.

“Thank you,” Jax says, his hands tight around the tablet.

Keith shrugs and looks down at his boots. He swallows, knowing what he has to do, and yet fighting a small part of him that really does _not_ want to. He looks back up at Jax.

“On Earth, to show that we don’t have a grudge with someone…that we forgive them…we shake hands,” he says.

Jax frowns and holds one hand up, waving it hesitantly.

“No,” Keith says, a smile twitching on his face. “Like this.” He holds his hand out for a handshake. “Historically, it’s showing you that I’m not holding a weapon, and that everything’s okay between us.”

Jax slowly holds his hand out, and Keith clasps it.

“This…means that I forgive you for what happened on Ceti Alpha Nine,” Keith says.

Jax is silent, staring in wonder at Keith. “Thank you, Red Paladin,” he says, his voice rich with respect. “You have the heart of a lion.” He withdraws his hand.

Keith clears his throat and steps closer to Pidge.

“We must be going,” Jax says. Raynia nods, and, to Keith’s surprise, the two Deltans drop to one knee and bow their heads, their fists over their chests.

 _“Guren *glassui,_ _”_ Raynia says.

The Deltans get to their feet and head for the door. Raynia shoots them one last grateful smile before the first set of doors closes behind them.

“Well, that’s that,” Keith sighs. His chest feels lighter, and the anxious tension in his shoulders is gone as well.

“Oh, look,” Pidge murmurs, pointing towards the windows. Keith squints; the Deltans are hesitating in the airlock, even though they’ve landed on the planet’s surface and don’t need to wait for it to pressurize.

Jax stands hunched a little, and he rubs his eye. Raynia touches his arm, her expression gentle but worried. She says something, and Jax nods. Raynia steps closer, and Jax hugs her tight. She squeezes her eyes shut and her face crumples, like she’s trying not to cry.

“Poor Raynia,” Pidge murmurs.

Jax steps back and gently dabs a tear from Raynia’s face with his sleeve. He leans forward and kisses her, and smiles reassuringly at her before stepping back further. They squeeze each other’s hand once more before straightening, their military bearing back in place and their secret hidden. They step out the last door, and are immediately greeted by another Deltan. But the door closes before Keith and Pidge can see what’s going on.

Keith shakes his head, sympathy welling up inside him.

“I think that document will help them,” Pidge says, though there’s a trace of uncertainty in her tone.

“I think so, too,” Keith says. He turns away from the doors and shoves his hands in his pockets. Something sharp pokes his hand, and he yelps. He draws out Pidge’s broken glasses, frankly surprised they’d remained in his pocket this whole time.

“Oh dear,” Pidge says. Keith carefully hands them to her, and Pidge inspects them.

“Well, that’s not going to be an easy fix,” she says, shrugging at Keith.

“I think Coran might be able to help,” Keith replies.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Pidge yawns, and they head back towards the lounge.

“By the way, Keith?” Pidge says after a moment. She stops walking, and Keith turns towards her.

“You saved my life.” She steps forward before Keith can respond and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says.

“You’re w-welcome,” Keith stutters, his face burning. Pidge doesn’t step back, and Keith’s chest blazes with the same fierce affection he’d felt when she was sick, and again when she was crying in the Deltan base.

But she’s not sick, she’s not crying, and Keith realizes what he’s feeling is protectiveness. It’s more than that, it’s caring and affection and fondness and…

“I love you,” he whispers, and for a split second he doesn’t dare to breathe when she doesn’t answer.

“I know,” she murmurs. And Keith knows that's a reference to something, but Pidge is standing on her tiptoes. Their lips meet, and his eyes fall shut.

The End


End file.
